2 Sons: Dirty Love, No Romance
by Harlee Quinn
Summary: A woman from Happy's recent past shows up in Charming with a surprising connection to SAMCRO and an offer they can't refuse. She may prove to be the Club's salvation, but the price will include Happy's freedom, one way or another. Meanwhile, as Jax tries to take the Club in a new direction against Clay's wishes, Marlowe's past threatens to tear their newly formed family apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

**A/N: **_**I'm baaack!**_

**I hope everyone is having a great summer. Mine has been soaked with blood, sweat and tears as I have spent night and day working on the ****second story in the 2 Sons Trilogy. This story, ****Dirty Love, No Romance****,**** picks up several months after ****Call of Duty**** ended with Jax and the Club still invested in their gun running business with the Irish. In the meantime, Jax has managed to get the Club's second legitimate business, Unser Trucking, up and running.**

**This story will find Happy Lowman—the Club's Sergeant-at-Arms—reintroduced to an OC whose background and experience may prove to be advantageous to the Sons. With the Club taking its first steps on a path towards legitimacy, Happy fully supports Jax****'****s ambitious plans for SAMCRO, but has yet to reconcile himself with leaving behind his outlaw ways. Determined to keep his word to his brother by helping steer the Club in a new direction, Happy is eagerly anticipating the end of gun running as the time for him to move away from SAMCRO for life on the road as a Nomad. Before that can happen, however, Happy will have to revisit the dark side of being an outlaw, which he is more than willing to do.**

**Introduced in Chapter 40 of ****Call of Duty****, Nicoletta "Nico" Torelli (better known to Happy as "Tiny") is not the typical biker groupie that the SAA is accustomed to. Coming from a world that is woefully different but at the same time eerily similar to his own in Charming, Happy makes the mistake of underestimating Nico as just "pussy". Letting his guard down, Happy unwittingly embarks on a journey with the formidable woman who has the potential of changing his life forever . . . if he lets her.**

**Meanwhile, Jax once again finds himself at odds with his stepfather, Clay Morrow, as he finally puts his agenda for legitimizing the Club on the table. With Clay seemingly determined to undermine him at every turn, the only thing keeping Jax focused is the love and support he's getting from his new old lady, Marlowe Guthrie. Unfortunately, that too may be taken away from him when Marlowe's past rears its ugly head.**

**As usual with me, this story will be a mix of Club business, romance and family drama that will go far in setting up the third and final installment of this trilogy. As these themes play out there will be times when Jaxlowe and other main characters may be AWOL for a bit, but don't worry. Loose threads are always dealt with as there is plenty of action planned to go around.**

**The rating on this story will be "T" for a hot minute. I guess I should probably warn you guys ahead of time—although I kinda think the title is a dead giveaway—that certain situations between Happy and Nico may get a bit twisted and steamy. Just don't say I didn't warn ya when the rating suddenly changes to "M" (which we all know really stands for "Triple X"—well, for me, anyways.)**

**So without further ado, please strap in for some ****Dirty Love, No Romance****. (And if you read, please review. It's much appreciated and sorely needed.)**

**Hugs, Harlee.**

* * *

_**Saginaw, Oregon – Wednesday, January 5, 2011**_

Considering that it was the only family-friendly stop within a 15-mile radius, the Gettings Creek rest area and service station off of Interstate 5 did not have the best of reputations. Located about 18 miles south of Eugene, the way station catered primarily to the truckers who made their living delivering cargo all over the country. While a fair number of these truckers were tax-paying, law-abiding citizens and decent men and women, more than a few were barely a step above anti-social miscreants who subsisted on Meth or other narcotics to see them through long cargo hauls. Known for giving hard-working truckers a bad name, these sociopaths were to be avoided both on the road and in the truck stops, which they mostly frequented in search of the always available cheap pussy and/or drugs.

Not unlike other rest stops in the Pacific Northwest, Gettings Creek had two main service sections. One provided for the needs of the general public, consisting more likely than not of road-weary businessmen and families on their way to or from vacations in one of several regional parks, including the Redwood National Forest. The other, seedier side of the rest area was a career trucker's paradise comprised of a greasy spoon diner, diesel gas station, restrooms with on-site shower facilities, and a huge parking lot where these commercial drivers could park their huge rigs and, in relative safety, get some much-needed sleep before hitting the road again.

But food, gas and lodging wasn't all that could be found at these highway oases as these men who made a living on the road—whether lawfully or not—had other needs to satisfy after being away from home for days and weeks at a time. With truck stops usually a gathering place for women of ill repute, a lonesome traveler with the desire for a physical release and the right amount of change in his pocket could easily procure the kind of companionship that involved the exchange of bodily fluids.

After indulging in the high-end caliber of women available at Jury's place in Indian Hills, however, the pussy in these parts was way below the standards this particular road warrior had grown accustomed to. Still, it _was_ cheap and Happy Lowman wasn't known to have ever turned his nose up at a bargain. _Especially_ not when he had managed to haggle the price down to half of what the haggard-looking hooker regularly charged for a blow job.

Now sitting on his bike seat smoking a cigarette—after the skanky blonde had finished guzzling his load—Happy was on high alert as he watched the comings and goings of the diner's customers. The aromas emanating from the garishly lit restaurant, a combination of charcoaled-burnt meat and stale garbage was enough to choke a bear and not in the least bit appetizing. The sign above the building that resembled the double-wide trailers common in these parts with large picture windows identified the eatery-slash-ground zero for a hepatitis outbreak as Big Al's Honky Tonk Café. The loud twang of old school country music blared through the constantly open door as departing truckers—having satisfied their basic needs to eat and drink—were greeted by the prostitutes happily available to take care of a man's most primal of needs, the need to fuck.

Happy watched with an amused smirk as one potbellied trucker grabbed a hold of a big breasted redhead with pock-marked skin and dragged her off to the bed of his parked rig. "Poor schmuck's paying for a case of the herps with that one, for sure," the biker muttered under his breath to his brother sitting on his own ride next to him.

Chibs chuckled. "He's a right fat bastard too, eh? He'll be sure to crush the poor whore, more's the pity." Reaching into his kutte, he pulled out his prepay and checked the time. "I thought our boy was just takin' a shite and grabbin' something quick to eat. What's takin' the fucker sae long?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Happy growled. "All I know is that if I have to go in there and remind him that he's on the clock, it won't be pretty. I'm bored with this shit duty as it is and I won't mind livening it up bit with a good ol' fashioned ass kicking."

"Alrighty then, brutha," Chibs clapped a hand on Happy's shoulder. "Since we need the bastard to finish the run, mayhap I'll go light a fire under his slow arse wit'out drawin' blood," he suggested as he started towards the diner.

As the point man on this particular protection run for Unser Trucking—which was now under new management—Happy had been on the road for over a week. Taking a few days to visit his mother and aunt, he and his crew were working a double protection run that had originated in Bakersfield. After successfully transporting and delivering a cargo of laptops to San Francisco, they then picked up another shipment fresh off a cargo ship from China to transport north of the border into British Columbia.

Happy had started this protection run determined to keep a tight schedule and, so far, they were running on time. Not including rest breaks for the truck's driver, it had taken nearly fifteen hours to make it to Oregon from San Francisco and they were on target to make it across into Canada in another seven. Gettings Creek would have to be their last stop if the intention was to get the shipment to its destination by eight o'clock that morning. With a 15-hour trip back to Charming left to be made, Happy wanted no more delays in getting his ass back out on the road.

The protection runs he had been running point on lately were a hell of a lot different from what the SAMCRO SAA was used to. While the Club was still heavily invested in the trade that had put bread on their table for many years, as of late, instead of running top military-grade merch like AK-47s, MAC-10s, FN-67s, RPGs and 50-caliber machine guns for the Real IRA, Happy found himself babysitting shipments of high-end flat screen TVs and smart phones. Although he was in full support of his President's decision to move SAMCRO away from guns, to Happy's way of thinking, gun running was way more fuckin' sexy and bad ass than playing rent-a-cop for a bunch of shit electronics bound to be on sale at a Best Buy near you.

An outlaw biker for most of his adult life, Happy was finding the idea of leaving behind the "outlaw" part of the Life somewhat constraining. When initially approached by Jax Teller with his radical vision for the Club's future as a completely legit organization, Happy had made the decision to support him even though it meant getting out of the gun trade. Considering the pros and cons beforehand, Happy had resolved that the good—such as an end to the violence and no more forced "vacations" in Stockton Prison—far outweighed the bad. At the time, the only "bad" Happy could think of was losing the bank that came from selling guns to every gangbanger crew, MC and organized crime syndicate in NorCal.

Now, sitting on his bike in the parking lot of some transient shithole in the dead of winter at almost one o'clock in the morning, it dawned on Happy that the biggest "con" of all was the constant state of mind-numbing, muscle-atrophying boredom he found himself in. For men like Happy and a certain handful of his brothers, boredom was a dangerous condition to fall into as it could make a man reckless and, worst of all, soft. He had foreseen it happening eventually, which was why he had promised his support to Jax with the caveat that the SAMCRO Pres would not oppose him jumping charters or going nomad sometime down the road to legitimacy. What Happy had not foreseen, however, was it happening so soon.

Even though he knew that Jax was a long ways away from achieving his biker utopia, when Happy had accepted his top rocker so many years ago he had also made a pledge to back up his President and his Club—no matter what the cost to his personal gain or happiness. The Club _always_ came first, which was why Happy was staying put in Charming for now. Boredom aside, Jax was right about the direction the Club was heading in. Happy knew from experience that, in spite of their recent streak of good luck, it was only a matter of time before shit went south for SAMCRO again. It always did for MCs that got too greedy and started dabbling in the drug trade.

At his age, outlaws like Happy were usually dead or in prison, the place old bikers went to die. Alive, in his forties and living life as a free man made Happy an exception to the rule and he wanted to keep it that way, for himself as well as his brothers. Over the years, he had witnessed the downfall of what many had considered to be untouchable MCs who had gotten sloppy and greedy, a lethal combination 99.9% of the time. Many had been infiltrated by undercover Feds with hard-ons for organized crime. Infiltration usually led to raids which ended with clubs being disbanded, colors and identities stripped and destroyed, and their members thrown into prison for long term sentences. Some would never make it out of prison alive, while others would emerge as broken old men who had left the best years of their lives on the inside.

Violence and the chance of dying prematurely was a part of the Life and every one of his brothers had known that fact prior to accepting the Club's colors, including the SAMCRO Pres. That didn't mean, however, that Jax was wrong for wanting out of the gun business. In spite of being an outlaw, he had been brought up to value family and everyone, especially Opie and Happy, had seen changes in Jax as soon as his son had been born. Finding and reading JT's manuscript and discovering that his father had not wanted this life of violence for his own sons had cemented Jax's resolve to change it.

Jax Teller loved the Club too much to turn his back and walk away as Tara Knowles had so desperately wanted. However, the toll that living on the fringe of society was having on every other aspect of his life had proven too much to inflict on those guilty of only being associated with Club members. The aftershocks of Donna's murder, Gemma's rape, and Abel's kidnapping were further amplified by Jax almost dying in prison without getting the chance to fix the Club as he had promised himself he would. That was something Happy could understand, especially since Jax's new old lady was none other than his surrogate sister Marlowe Guthrie. It was clear that a move away from guns would benefit the Sons—Happy included, albeit begrudgingly—for the best.

Although Happy believed whole-heartedly in and lived by the credo tattooed around his neck—_I Live, I Die, I Kill for My Family_—a part of him feared that living a legit life meant losing the true essence of who he was. After all, there was no sense in denying, especially to himself, that he was a cold-blooded killer. Since patching in at 23, Happy had amassed a total of 13 smiley face tattoos—not all of which were for Club-sanctioned hits either—and he hadn't earned his Unholy One patch by being a boy scout. Like with his tattooing, when it came to doing shit for the Club no one else had the stomach for, Happy Lowman was in a class by himself. Even other charters were known to farm out their dirty work to the Tacoma Killah and not all of it included murder-for-hire. As a matter of fact, Happy was well-known (and feared) for his creative take on torture.

However, in spite of feeling like a neutered dog as of late, it was the love he had for Marlowe that had been the deciding factor in Happy throwing his support behind Jax. With the Club newly-partnered with Unser Trucking, Phase One of Jax's bold new business plan was almost complete. Working with Wayne Unser over the last three months, the company's old fleet of trucks had been sold in order to make way for a fleet of new and previously-owned but gently used trucks. A natural born negotiator, Jax had contracted a number of independent truck drivers to increase their roster of employees and, in a move supported by a Club vote, appointed Kozik as "office manager" with Piney and Lyla Winston as his support staff.

Knowing Kozik as well as he did, Happy knew that his brother had been grateful for the new assignment. Although he had made significant progress now that his leg was fully healed, it would still be some time before Kozik was ready to go on extended runs without his leg giving him grief after a while. Instead, working with Piney and Lyla, he was learning the trucking business from Charming's former chief of police.

As a matter of fact, the shipment that Happy and his crew, which included Chibs, Filthy Phil, Miles and Ratboy, were currently protecting was for a new client secured by Kozik and Lyla. Dunwood Wholesale Electronics had been the victim of several hijackings over the last six months and were in danger of losing a number of accounts with major retailers if they couldn't make good on their delivery promises. Although Dunwood had been transporting their own cargo for years, Kozik had convinced them to outsource delivery to Unser Trucking by guaranteeing that with their added protection service, their shipments would no longer be bait for hijackers.

Now, as Happy watched Chibs hurriedly escort their driver from the diner, he turned and let loose a loud wolf whistle, a call that to the rest of the crew meant "get your ass in gear."

_If all goes well, the rest of this run will be a piece of cake_, Happy thought as he straddled his bike. _A big, fat boring piece of cake_.

* * *

_**Kirkland, Washington – Thursday, January 6, 2011**_

It was nearly dawn as the convoy that included a large semi and its escort of four Sons and a black cargo van manned by Ratboy made its way along Interstate 5. Having passed through Oregon and nearly all the way through Washington slightly ahead of schedule, Happy had to admit that Unser's driver, Don McPhee, knew what the fuck he was doing. In spite of viewing his company-mandated escort as more of an unnecessary burden than anything else, Don had made excellent time as he pushed his rig through the early morning hours at top speed.

At this rate, the odds of sleeping in his own bed tonight seemed to be in Happy's favor. With the sun starting to lighten the sky with an orange and blue hue, it would be full blown daylight soon. With only a couple of hours left to travel, it seemed they were destined to make it across the Canadian border to deliver their cargo safely and without mishap.

Unfortunately, not everything works out as it is seemingly destined to.

Later, after the dust had settled, Happy would comment to Chibs that their attackers had picked the perfect time to ambush them, leaving them both to wonder just how the convoy had ended up on their radar in the first place. Enveloped in semi-darkness, traffic was light at half-past five o'clock in the morning, making it the prime time to strike.

They had been flanking the semi i formation, with Chibs and Miles in the front, Happy and Phil in the back, and everyone followed by Ratboy in the cargo van. With enough distance between the bikes and the truck, at first glance it appeared as if the group wasn't travelling together. So when four identical and extremely high-powered black Honda Civics seemingly came out of nowhere and made an aggressive approach from behind, the SAA was pretty damn sure it wasn't just a bunch of teenagers out for an early morning joy ride. Checking his mirror and grimacing as the vehicles revved their engines and surged forward, Happy felt a sudden rush of adrenaline flood his veins.

_Finally! Some fuckin' action_, he thought with savage joy.

Although Happy had outgrown the craziness of his younger days when he had actively sought out opportunities to bust shit up, these last few months had been especially quiet and dull. With no active beefs with other crews on the horizon and business with the Cartel running smooth, the last time he got to flex his muscles was during the Club's attack on the Ghanezi brothers. Other than cutting loose with his Sig Sauer on the make-shift firing range he had set up behind the gun warehouse in order to keep his skills sharp, Happy hadn't had an opportunity to bust a cap in someone's ass in a good long while. However, though this appeared to be a ready-made opportunity to do just that, his President's counsel echoed in his head.

_Hap, I'm counting on you to keep the peace, brother. If some shit __does__ go down, the last thing I want is state troopers hauling your asses in for firing unregistered weapons on a fuckin' highway crowded with civilians. Brains before bullets_, Jax had advised him soberly just as Happy and the crew were about to pull out of Charming.

Making a judgment call, Happy hit the speed dial on his prepay that would activate a special ring tone on Chibs' end, a signal that shit was about to get epic. With the lead car zooming forward to approach the front of the semi and a second car following suit, Happy raised his gloved hand in an authoritative wave directed at Filthy Phil on his right. Veering his ride away from behind the cargo hold and to the left of the semi directly behind the second car, the SAA watched as Phil followed his lead. Hoping that Don remembered his instructions to not slow down or stop under any circumstance if an attempt to hijack the shipment was made, Happy smiled in satisfaction as he watched the semi suddenly speed up instead.

"Shit!" he roared as he saw that the lead car—a custom-made piece of foreign shit—had used its powerful nitrous oxide-infused engines to easily insert itself behind Chibs and Miles. Now directly in front of the semi, it was attempting to impede the truck's progress. Suddenly, a figure dressed in black and wearing a ski-mask came out of sunroof holding what appeared to be some sort of harpoon-propelled weapon.

"Fuck me! What is this shit?" Feeling as if he had suddenly awoken to find himself in the middle of one of Juice's favorite hi-speed action movies, Happy refused to lose his shit. Instead, he kept his bike steady as he pulled his Glock from the holster under his kutte. Making sure there were no other cars on either side of the I-5, he took careful aim.

_To hell with not firing my weapon_, Happy thought grimly, trying to get a lock on the figure standing through the sunroof. The car directly in front of him and Phil, however, continued to weave back and forth in an effort to block Happy's line of fire.

Hearing gunfire, Happy grinned as Chibs and Miles fired at the occupants of the lead car. Figuring that they would take care of that asshole, Happy decided to set his sights on the next car. Suddenly, in a blink-you-missed-it hot as shit move, the second car passed underneath the carriage of the semi to exit on the other side.

"Shit no!" Happy shouted above the roar of the wind, determined not to let the speed demon get away from him.

Directing Phil to engage the two cars behind them and seeing that the Prospect in the cargo van was using its powerful V8 engine to ram the rear end of the last car, Happy veered around the side of the semi to come up directly behind the second car. Raising his Glock, and with a bestial snarl on his face, Happy aimed for the driver's head. At the last second, however, he changed his mind, taking a shot at the car's back tire instead. The tire exploded, the asphalt ripping it to shreds as the driver valiantly tried—and failed—to get the car under control again. Swerving wildly from left to right, the driver frantically jerked the steering wheel as the car came dangerously close to the semi's massive wheels.

Grinning in anticipation, Happy let out a war whoop of triumph as the car skidded to the side, hitting the highway's steel barrier before flipping over and into the air. Still maintaining his speed, Happy managed a look over his shoulder in time to see the car flip over several times before resting on its side on a heavily wooded embankment along the other side of the highway. The third car burned rubber as it came to a screeching halt, quickly spinning itself into the opposite direction in order to come to the aid of the disabled vehicle's occupants. Thanks to the combined efforts of Filthy Phil and Ratboy, the rear car spun out before landing in a ditch.

Speeding up with Phil and Ratboy following closely behind, Happy zeroed in on the truck only to discover that Chibs and Miles had managed to dispatch the lead car, forcing it off of the road and onto the exit ramp where it sped away. Pulling adjacent to the semi, Happy smirked as the driver rolled his window down in order to pump his fist at him in the air in triumph.

Tipping his chin up at Don with a sense of amusement and pride, Happy shoved his gun back into its holster and waved his brothers back into formation, resuming his position behind the truck. Maybe living a "legit" life as the Club's enforcer wouldn't be so dull after all, Happy pondered. Although he hated letting the would-be hijacking assholes go, they had lucked out due to the fact that Jax was counting on him to get this cargo to its destination on schedule.

_But if their luck doesn't hold up, we'll cross paths again_, Happy thought as he increased his speed. _And when we do, they'll learn the hard way that fuckin' around with SAMCRO is a horrible way to die._

* * *

_**Outskirts of Charming, CA – Friday, January 7, 2011**_

Dominic Torelli watched out of the corner of his eye as his big sister expertly navigated the Porsche down the I-22. Weaving effortlessly in and out of traffic, Nico pushed her dark brown hair away from her eyes as she smirked.

"I can feel your eyeballs on me, Dom," Nico started. "I won't get pulled over, I promise. I'm only going ten miles over the speed limit."

Dominic chuckled as he took off his sunglasses. "I'm not worried about your driving, Nicoletta—"

Nico rolled her eyes at the sound of her birth name. "Aw shit. Here we go," she started, her eyes firmly on the road as her beautifully manicured hands rested casually on the steering wheel at four and seven. "Not only are you starting to look like him, but you're starting to sound like Papa, too. What did I do now, _Dominic_?"

Dominic shook his head. "Nothin'. I've just been thinking that maybe it's better if we go with Plan B."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Nico replied, confused. "There is no Plan B, Dom."

"Yeah, well, there is now. Just drop me off about a mile from the garage and wait for my call _outside_ the city limits," Dominic commanded.

Barely able to control the smirk on her face, Nico was grateful she was wearing large, dark sunglasses as she cut loose with a massive eye roll at the sound of earnest authority in her baby brother's voice. "As your counselor, Dom, I have to tell you that Plan B is shit and I'm not doing it," Nico replied definitively. "You're not even carrying a weapon, so there's no way in hell I'm letting you face off with those bikers on your own."

"I'm not worried, Nico. According to the Intel I pulled together, Friday night is apparently party night down at the SOA Clubhouse," Dominic responded confidently. "I won't be in any danger with so many witnesses around."

Bemused, Nico shook her head. Dominic wasn't the only one that had pulled together some Intel and from what she had learned, these outlaw bikers were extremely dangerous and approaching them should not be taken lightly. "Only fools rush in, Dom," Nico advised. "And only soon-to-be dead fools rush in unarmed and alone. After the shit you and your crew _tried_ to pull off yesterday, do you really think they're going to let a little thing like a Clubhouse full of witnesses stop them from making an example out of you?" she argued. "It's bad enough not giving them a head's up about our 'visit' by calling first. You just might find yourself walking into a potential slaughter all by yourself and I won't let that happen."

Shaking his head, Dominic chuckled as he looked out the passenger window. "It's not like my chances are any better with you by my side, Nico."

"Bullshit," Nico retorted.

"It's not bullshit. What are you gonna do, whack 'em with that big brain of yours?" he teased as he turned his gaze on her again.

"Maybe," she replied snidely, "but not before dazzling them with my other assets first. I say we stick to the original plan because I did not literally squeeze myself into these leather pants just so I could play chauffeur tonight," Nico replied as she looked towards her brother.

Dominic quirked an eyebrow. Although dressing up and looking good was not out of the ordinary for his sister, her attire for the evening certainly was. Taking in the waves in her mid-back length hair and kohl-darkened eyes, Dominic realized that the leather pants weren't the only item of clothing she had squeezed herself into. Underneath a fitted dark denim jacket, Nico was wearing a matching leather bustier that looked in danger of popping a few buttons.

Running a hand over his shaved skull, Dominic was tempted to pull rank as the only male sibling and aborting their plans for the night. "Using yourself as bait is not a smart play, Nico."

"Bait?! What the fuck, Dom?!" Nico laughed. "I'm just dressing for the occasion. You said there would be a party at the Clubhouse tonight, right?"

"I sincerely doubt we'll get invited to party."

"Wanna bet? I look like I'm ready to party with a bunch of outlaw bikers," Nico smiled. "Let's just say that I'm going with Plan D-squared, as in this bustier makes _the girls_ look like double D's and I know that will go a long way in improving our chances of getting out alive. Trust me on this," she explained much to her brother's horror.

"Holy shit, Nico! You realize Pop will kill me if anything happens to you tonight, right?" Dominic asked bewildered by his sister's sudden transformation from Dr. Jekyll into Ms. Hyde.

Reaching over, Nico pinched Dominic's cheek. "Just like Ma would kill me if anything happened to her precious baby boy." She laughed as he playfully smacked her hand away. "Hey, you know it's true. She already has two other daughters who did the right thing by staying married and producing brats. You're her only son."

"You always make it sound like you're the spare we keep around for shits and giggles. You are a very important part of this family and you're very special, Nico, not just to me but to _everyone_. You do know that, don't you?" Dominic asked seriously, his brow creased with sincerity.

"Of course, I do," Nico replied and she believed it whole-heartedly. _The Family would fall apart without me_. "But you can't deny that Ma would have been a lot happier had I been born a boy," she challenged.

"That's only 'cause until you hit puberty you thought you were Papa's mini-me, always getting into shit and driving her crazy," Dominic replied, only partly teasing.

"It's all perspective, I guess. The way I see it, the only thing that partially redeemed me in her eyes for not being born a boy was giving birth to Tonio. Anyway," Nico tried diverting the conversation back to the issue at hand, "you suggesting I keep out of this shit really pisses me off, Dom, because sometimes, you're just like Ma. This wouldn't be an issue with Lucky or any of the other guys from your crew," she replied as she looked towards her brother.

"Maybe," Dominic admitted reluctantly, "but sometimes a man's better qualified for some shit by simply being a man. Lucky should be the one here tonight."

"Kind of hard to do with a broken pelvis, Dom," Nico said sarcastically. "Lucky should consider himself, a-hem, lucky that's all he ended up with after flipping his car," she smirked.

"That's not even funny, Nico," Dom said irritably. "Besides, he didn't do that shit alone. I'd love nothing more than to put the fucker responsible in traction himself."

"Which is probably another reason it's good that I'm here, to keep you from losing your shit," Nico retorted as she continued to weave in and out of traffic. "You can't blame the bikers for doing their job, little brother. And don't think for one minute that you've distracted me from that macho alpha male bullshit that just came out of your mouth. I don't need a pair of balls to handle shit."

"_I _know that, but this is a man's world and you know that's how shit works in the Family, Nico," he said before reaching over and squeezing her hand. "I'm sure these bikers aren't any different, and I know you. You won't hesitate on setting them straight in that regard, which can make shit worse," Dominic said ruefully.

"After your little run in with the MC, I don't see how shit can get any worse," Nico said as she took the exit leading to Charming. "I hope Zio knows these bikers as well as he says he does and that they would be willing to accept a _mea culpa_," she said skeptically.

"If there's money to be made by keeping us alive, they'll take us up on our offer," Dominic said confidently. "Underneath the leather and grime, they're businessmen just like Pop and his associates."

"You hope." Nico shook her head as she headed towards Teller-Morrow Automotive Services, national headquarters for the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club.

_And so do I_, she thought.

Considering that Nico had other business her brother was unaware of that she might want to discuss with the Sons in the future, a positive outcome tonight was of the utmost importance.

* * *

Kozik was sitting on the picnic table outside the Clubhouse drinking a beer and watching as the parking lot started to fill up with the Friday night hang-arounds. It was about twenty minutes before sunset and most of his brothers were hovering close by, drinking and talking shit as they waited for Jax to call Church.

While the attempted hijacking had everyone who sat around the table more than just a little pissed off, it was Kozik who was the most irate about the situation. Although grateful that his brothers had been able to neutralize the threat, it had been a particularly hard blow to his ego that he hadn't been on hand to protect the shipment.

For the last few months, Kozik's primary job had been working with Wayne Unser in the revamping of the trucking business and he had worked exceptionally hard to line up new clients for Unser Trucking on a trial basis. Thanks to Happy's quick thinking and the experienced driver assigned to the haul, Dunwood Electronics had been impressed with the service they had provided and had given U-T several more shipments to handle over the next few months.

Although Dunwood had been impressed by their ability to thwart the attempted hijacking, shit like what happened in Washington couldn't be allowed to happen again. Kozik, along with Juice and Chibs, had spent most of the day trying to track down Intel on the would-be hijackers and learn how the shipment had been targeted in the first place. Since Jax had worked out the logistics of the haul using new routes himself, he was sure to want answers by the time they sat down at the table. Now, as Juice dragged his feet out of the Clubhouse and made his way towards Kozik, it was obvious by the look on his face that they wouldn't have good news to report.

"No luck?" Kozik asked after taking a deep swallow of his beer.

Juice shook his head as he jumped onto the table next to him. "The partial plate Ratboy got off one of the cars just wasn't enough. I got no hits. Nothing even close."

"Tha's not gonna sit well with Jax, brutha," Chibs chimed in.

"Not much else we can do without more information," Kozik replied. "During the last twenty-four hours, we have hit up every possible lead and shaken up all the usual suspects. There must be a new crew in the area who don't know who they're fuckin' with."

"What did Tacoma have to say?" Chibs asked Juice.

"Not much," Juice replied with a sigh. "According to their Intel officer, they're on pretty good terms with the crews operating in that area. No one's aware of any crew of hijackers fitting the description."

Kozik shook his head. "Souped up Japanese cages don't fit anyone's M.O. this far north. You find rice burners like that down in SoCal, between LA and San Diego on the drag circuit. Maybe it's some amateur crew looking for ways to finance their racing addiction."

Chibs shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Make sense, brutha. They sure as shite didna return fire. I, meself, am not familiar with such passivity in the 'pros'."

Nodding in agreement, Kozik was about to continue thinking out loud when he heard an engine roar down the street and heading towards the garage. Putting his empty bottle down, he jumped off the picnic table as a powder blue Porsche 911 Turbo S pulled onto the lot.

"Not bad, for a cage," Kozik said admiringly. With Chibs and Juice falling in step behind him, Kozik headed to the car, stopping dead in his tracks as a petite, yet curvy woman with dark hair stepped out of the driver's side.

_Hmm, even better_, Kozik thought and upped the wattage of his smile.

"Hey," the woman smiled as she confidently approached Kozik on death-defying platform heels, her smoky blue eyes making contact with his. "I'm looking for your President."

Kozik took a long, leisurely and appreciative look at the beautiful young woman with pouty lips. "Judging by appearances, if you're here lookin' to party with the Pres, I'm afraid your outta luck. See, his ass is already spoken for, but mine's completely free and available, love," he advised with cocky smile.

"I'm sure you are," she smiled back flirtatiously, "but I'm a business before pleasure-type of woman."

With a raised eyebrow, Kozik ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "So tell me what's your business so we can get on with the pleasure."

"I'm Nico Torelli," she started, "and I represent the crew that tried to take down the cargo your Club was protecting early yesterday morning."

"Holy shit!" Juice uttered under his breath as Chibs let out a low chuckle. Kozik, however, was suddenly looking at the young woman with hard, blazingly angry eyes.

"Okay, _Nico Torelli_. Now I know who you are," Kozik started. "Still don't know what the fuck you're doing here," he replied, all pretense of being nice and flirty wiped clean from his countenance.

A slight breeze kicked up, forcing Nico to push hair away from her face. "That part is a little more complicated, but before I get to it, you should know I'm not alone." She nodded her head towards the Porsche with the dark tinted windows. Suddenly, the passenger side door opened and out stepped a tall and well-muscled man wearing a leather jacket over a tight-fitting black t-shirt, black jeans, and sunglasses. "This is my brother Dominic Torelli," Nico said as she wrapped her arm around Dominic's bicep. "And we're here to make amends."

* * *

**Acknowledgment****: I want to thank ****bobbysidjit**** for once again coming through for me and creating the beautiful cover art for this story. Just when I think she can't get any better, she out does herself. Thanks, gurl. You're the best!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

**A/N****: First and foremost, I want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed and/or favorited this story. Along with my faithful regulars, I want to acknowledge the many newcomers who have signed on as well. I hope you all continue reading and providing feedback. Out of the thousands of stories on this site, you have chosen to read one of mine and I want everyone to know and feel that they are greatly appreciated. The loyalty and support I have found in this fandom is incredible and never taken for granted, which is why I put so much effort and hard work into my writing.**

**Before going any farther, I want to sincerely apologize for giving anyone the wrong impression after reading the first chapter of this story. This second installment of the 2 Sons trilogy is ****not**** a crossover of the SOA and The Fast and The Furious Universes. Although that had been the original plan, after many months of plot development, my beta and I decided to scrap the crossover idea and go in a different direction.**

**That being said, the character of Dom Torelli is in fact inspired by Dom Toretto in the F&F movies, as was the hijacking scene in the first chapter. In spite of that inspiration, I neglected to give proper credit to the creators of The Fast & The Furious in my disclaimer and for that I am sorry. Please know, however, that it was not intentional and something I had not considered until it was brought to my attention. Please consider this my amended disclaimer regarding The Sons of Anarchy and The Fast & The Furious, two concepts which I do not own nor have any claim to. I write for personal enjoyment and not for profit and did not intend to infringe on the creativity of others. Please also note that while the attempted hijacking may continue to be an issue in this chapter, the resolution of that situation between SAMCRO and the Torellis puts an end to any similarities between this story and The Fast & The Furious.**

**Dirty Love, No Romance**** is NOT a crossover.**

**Thank you again for reading and I look forward to hearing from all of you in your reviews.**

**Hugs, Harlee.**

* * *

_**Friday, January 7, 2011**_

As was usually the case for as far back as he could remember, Dominic Torelli was in complete and utter awe of his big sister. Instead of having all types of automatic weapons pointed at their heads after claiming responsibility for the attempted hijacking of a truck under their protection, the outlaw MC known as SAMCRO had opened the door to their Clubhouse and invited the Torelli siblings in for a drink.

_A fuckin' drink!_

Dominic wasn't blind, however. Although Nico was well-spoken and intelligent, it wasn't an appreciation for her smarts that had kept them breathing this long. Nico was a beautiful woman and even though she wasn't big in height, she was big in personality. Not only was she personable, but a slight air of danger always seemed to surround her that men such as these usually found themselves drawn to. Maybe it was those eyes of hers, just one of the many traits she had inherited from their father. Always warm and inviting, Nico could be quite intimidating when she flashed cold, dark blue eyes in your direction.

Whatever it was that Nico had, it was something these outlaw bikers made no effort to hide their admiration for, but even Dominic knew that didn't mean they were out of the woods yet.

Ushered inside by the trio that had greeted them in the parking lot, the patch who had introduced himself as Kozik charged the rat-faced young man with greasy hair behind the bar with serving up whatever Nico and Dominic wanted to drink. He then demanded that anyone not wearing a kutte vacate the Clubhouse immediately. Ordering a shot of Jack with a beer chaser, Nico settled herself onto a bar stool to wait. From his corner of the bar, Dominic gulped down half of his beer as he watched the blond spiky-haired biker disappear into a room he had referred to as the "Chapel". Quickly downing her shot, Nico picked up her beer bottle just as a curly-haired biker with a pair of crazy-looking blue eyes slipped in between the siblings.

With his eyes nailed onto the cleavage exposed by her unbuttoned denim jacket, Nico watched as he hungrily ran his tongue over dry lips. Taking a sip from her beer, Nico put the bottle down on the bar with just enough force to snap the patch out of his breast-induced trance.

"Did ya lose something down my shirt, sport?" Nico asked cheekily.

Dominic took another gulp from his beer and pretended he couldn't hear what was going on right next to him. Nico didn't take kindly to her little brother automatically jumping to the rescue. He would let her handle the situation until Dominic was sure it was about to get out of hand. With Nico usually handling her own shit effectively, however, his interference was rarely ever required.

"Nah, doll," the patch drawled. "I'm just imagining my hard cock in between those perfect tits of yours." He flashed a surprisingly engaging grin. "I'm Tig, by the way," he announced.

Tig had no idea who the hot little bitch was, but he had seen her enter the Clubhouse with Kozik. With a plump ass encased in tight leather and dark sable-colored hair falling over her shoulders in soft, loose curls, she could be just another biker groupie. If he was lucky, however, she'd turn out to be a tried and true hang-around—a croweater, which made her fair game.

"Well, uh Tig, I have to warn you. I usually have trouble picturing shit that has no chance of ever happening," Nico started, "so I'm not really getting the visual that you have so vividly painted for me. Sorry."

Tig was looking at her with a knitted brow. Looking into what could only be described as crazy eyes, Nico said a quick prayer in hopes that she hadn't just earned herself a backhand for mouthing off to the wrong biker. But soon, the older man's features softened and he laughed heartily.

"Ah, shit! I get it." Tig exclaimed with a smile. Grabbing her beer, he took a large sip, wiping his mouth with the back of a multi-ringed hand before he leaned into her. "Hey, listen, doll. If shit don't work out between you and Koz, you should really consider giving me—tall, dark and hung like a fuckin' horse—a shot. I'm just saying." He shrugged his shoulders.

"I can't make any promises," Nico signaled the bartender to pour her another shot, "but I will keep the offer in mind."

"Yeah, you do that," Tig replied and bit his lip as he stared down into her cleavage again. "I bet you taste like peaches," he said and smacked his lips, making "mmm-mmm" noises as if he had just tasted the sweet and juicy fruit before walking away.

"Told ya," Dominic said, closing the large gap between himself and his sister before anyone else decided to test their luck with Nico. "Bait. You're dressed like fuckin' bait."

Nico rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so what? It's not like this is the first biker bar I've ever been hit on in," she teased, earning a surprised glare from her brother. "You need to relax, Dom. You look tense and I'm reading all this anxiety coming off of you. If they pick up on it, they won't trust us," she murmured quietly.

"I think the fact that we tried jacking them takes care of the trust issue, don't you?" Dominic argued.

"Presently, yes, but I'm here to make things right. _You_ look like you're here to plant a bomb. Chill the fuck out, that's all I'm saying. It's not like you haven't dealt with bigger and badder before," Nico advised.

"Oh, I have, just not while babysitting my bratty sister," Dominic teased.

"Yeah, fuck you, too, Dom," Nico smiled as she took a sip of her whiskey.

Just then, the Chapel doors opened. A tall, blond and extremely good-looking man with a "President" patch on his kutte was standing in the doorway staring straight at Dominic and Nico. Taking a deep drag from the cigarette he was holding, the man both brother and sister recognized as Jax Teller stepped into the main room. He was followed by a giant of a man with long auburn hair sporting a "V. President" patch and a shorter, bushy-haired man whose kutte was barely big enough to cover the serious beer baby gut he was rocking.

But it was the man that followed them all into the room that caused Nico's breath to catch in her throat.

_It's him_, Nico thought as her eyes centered on the intimately familiar tan and lean face of the man with the clean-shaven and tattooed head_. And he apparently remembers me too_, she inwardly smiled with some satisfaction as she saw his dark eyes narrow as they focused on her like laser beams.

Telling herself to get a grip, Nico felt suddenly disgruntled with herself and the sense of relief that had bubbled to the surface thanks to the light of recognition that had flashed in his eyes. After all, Nico had hoped that she too had made a lasting impression on the man and hadn't been the only one indelibly affected by their one lust-driven night together.

* * *

To say that Happy Lowman had been taken by surprise would have been grossly understating the situation. It was more along the lines of getting knocked on his ass, complete with little birds and stars circling his head.

When Kozik had entered the Chapel to advise that the crew responsible for the attempted hijacking were at the moment sitting in the Clubhouse, Happy quickly started going through the inventory of his mind for good, out of the way places to dump the bodies. Fully expecting to find a ragtag bunch of inbred redneck assholes who had obviously shown up in Charming on a dare, walking out and seeing Tiny prettily perched on a bar stool had completely floored him. Not that anyone would be able to tell by the menacing look on his face.

The last time Happy had laid eyes on her had been during the previous summer at the Indian Hills Clubhouse. It had been a truly intense night of no-holds barred fuckin', no doubt. But after a missed opportunity to hook up with her once again a couple of months later, Happy had dismissed their encounter as a one-off. As he boldly eyed her, however, it became clear to Happy that Tiny wasn't at all surprised to see him, judging by the knowing blue eyes that languidly ran up and down the length of his body.

_And tonight she's not looking like no high-end piece of ass either_, Happy thought, noting the tight leather pants that molded over her generous curves and bustier that encased her perfectly round and beautiful tits. _Damn! __I've missed those home grown bad boys too_, the errant thought ran through his mind as he felt his cock twitch. _Like a lot_.

Not sure of how or why the miniature prima donna had gotten mixed up in the hijacking shit fest, Happy decided to keep his counsel and let the SAMCRO Pres run point. Without acknowledging her presence, Happy stood quietly to Jax's right, cocking his head in interest as off to the side he watched Clay Morrow murmuring quietly into his prepay before snapping the phone shut.

"You walking heavy?" Jax asked as he grabbed a seat at one of the tables and sat down.

"No," Dominic replied. "We came to make peace, so we're both unarmed."

Jax nodded, leaning back casually in his chair, one long, denim-clad leg stretched out. "I appreciate that, but you do understand that for your safety as well as our own, we're gonna have to pat you down." The SAMCRO President motioned to Chibs, who was standing closest to Dominic with Tig quickly volunteering to search Nico.

"Hey, hey," Dominic started protesting as Tig grabbed his sister's arm, ready to yank her off the stool. "I don't mind a pat down, but can you please give the lady a little courtesy?"

Seeing a hard glint ignite in Jax's eyes as if he were trying to decide who to kill first, Nico jumped off the stool. "I don't mind a pat down either. I've got nothing to hide." Turning around, she placed her hands on the bar top and spread her legs.

Gleefully rubbing his hands together, Tig was about to reach for her again when Jax motioned for him to step back. "Let Hap do it," he ordered, much to Tig's displeasure.

"Really, Pres?" Tig protested petulantly. "What kind of cock-blocking shit is that?"

"Cock-blocking?" Jax raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Bro, I need someone to pat her down, not fuck her up against the bar," he said as Happy stepped forward and pushed Tig to the side.

"I got this," Happy flashed Tig a grim look.

In spite of what the brother/sister duo were claiming responsibility for, Happy knew that out of the respect he had for women, Jax was not about to subject the beauty wrapped in leather to a mauling bordering on sexual assault. Approaching her as he would any pat down, Happy started with her arms, running his hands over what he could feel through the denim jacket were her familiar, well-toned arms. Trailing down to her sides, he patted the pockets of her jacket before reaching underneath and patting the sides and back of her bustier.

"I think you missed a spot," Nico whispered teasingly as Happy by-passed the front of her top, his hands falling to her slim waist.

"I'm giving you a pass since we both know it's near impossible to wedge anything in between those beauties—unless, of course, it's my cock," he replied in a low growl.

Nico smirked as Happy continued patting the front, side, and back of her leather pants. "What is it with you boys and titty-fucking?"

"I only know me and I know I just hate letting anything go to waste," Happy leaned close to Nico's ear and whispered. "Just don't make me regret giving you that pass—_Tiny_," he said, sending shivers down her spine. Crouching down behind her, Happy ran his hands down the outside and around her legs and finally between her thighs. "Clean," he declared as he straightened up, internally ordering his dick to stand the fuck down.

"Yup, clean," Chibs agreed after searching Dominic.

"Take a seat," Jax ordered, gesturing towards the chairs opposite him at the table. Doing as they were told, the pair patiently waited for their chance to speak. "I hear you two are related, brother and sister."

Dominic nodded. "Dom and Nico Torelli."

"Torelli, huh?" Clay interrupted as he approached the trio and pulled out a chair to sit down, uninvited. Taking a puff of his cigar, he continued, "Brooklyn Johnny T your old man?"

"Yes, _Gianni_ Torelli from Reno is our father," Nico replied.

"So if Brooklyn Johnny's your old man," Clay smiled, "I'm assuming you must know who Jimmy Caccuza is."

"He's our uncle," Dominic replied, folding his arms across his powerful chest.

"That's right!" Clay declared triumphantly. "So just imagine my surprise when I realized that the niece and nephew of a long-time friend and business associate of mine tried to hijack a cargo my Club was being paid handsomely to protect," he stated. "Needless to say, I am very surprised indeed and, like my brothers here, none too happy."

"That's why we're here," Dominic started. "We had no idea the Sons were running protection on that shipment."

"We run protection on _all_ Unser Trucking cargo," Jax replied sternly.

"He knows that, _now_," Nico chimed in just as strongly. "What he didn't know before was that this time around, Dunwood had outsourced transport of their cargo to an independent contractor, something they had _never_ done before. Had Dom known that the trucking company they were using had ties to the Sons, he wouldn't have been there."

Jax turned a hard look on Nico. "And just how did he know to be there in the first place? It was a last-minute job for us and I had strategically planned that route myself less than twenty-four hours before."

Dominic licked his lips as he gave Nico a sideways glance. He was willing to make amends, but divulging trade secrets was not a part of the plan. Looking over at her brother, Nico arched an eyebrow as if to say they were waiting for him to speak. Dominic replied by giving her a slight shake of his bald head.

Seeing Jax's jaw clench and his nostrils flare as the rest of his crew shifted on their feet—in preparation for what, she didn't care to find out—Nico let out an exasperated puff of air and glared at Dominic. "Tell him . . . _now_," she ordered with authority that Happy noted quizzically Dominic was unwilling to challenge.

"Most of the dockworkers at the port in San Francisco are on the Torelli payroll," Dominic started explaining, albeit hesitantly. "My contact knows to keep an eye out for high-end cargo for me. When it comes in, he places a GPS-enabled tracking device underneath the rig while it's being loaded."

Jax turned to look at his VP and SAA with a raised eyebrow. "Smart."

"Meh," Opie shrugged his massive shoulders, unimpressed. "You would've figured it out eventually."

"Anyway," Dominic spoke up, bringing Jax's attention back to the table. "The point is, I didn't know the cargo was being protected by armed bikers and my intention was never to start shit with the Sons. As it is, I've got one man laid up in a hospital with a broken pelvis after one of your guys shot out his tire and for what?"

"I knew it, brutha," Chibs guffawed as he slapped a hand on Happy's shoulder. "You're a crack shot and I knew you wouldna let the bastard get off easy."

Happy watched as Dominic's eyes narrowed. "So you're the one responsible for what happened to Lucky," he said tightly.

"That's right," Happy said with a shit-eating grin. "And your boy might want to consider changing his name, although he is 'lucky' he didn't end up with a bullet in the head instead."

"I think you got that backwards," Dominic started darkly. "You should consider yourselves the lucky ones that the safety of my crew always comes first. Otherwise, shit might not have gone so easily your way."

Happy and Chibs eyed each other incredulously before bursting into raucous laughter.

"Hey, Torelli. Were you in the car that flipped too 'cause maybe you hit your head and forgot who chased who away," Tig called out as the main room roared with laughter.

Feeling her gears shift into big sister mode, Nico didn't take kindly to anyone running her brother down, not even a clan of probably well-armed and murderous outlaw bikers. For a brief moment, she forgot the reason they were there in the first place as jumping to her brother's defense was second nature to her by now.

"Chased away? Not so difficult to do when you're brandishing automatic weapons on a commuter highway," she stated adamantly with a smug look on her face. "Dom and his crew are pros. He's done dozens of these take-downs before, without ever needing to fire a weapon. The only times he has ever backed down from a hijacking was when his crew was in danger, like he did yesterday."

"Were you there, driving one of those cages?" Jax suddenly asked, intrigued by the outspoken young woman.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "Making shit fall off a truck is not how I earn my keep. That doesn't mean, however, that I don't know my brother and what he's capable of. Dom made the right call on behalf of his crew by backing down, but if he really wanted that cargo, he would have taken that cargo."

Clay chuckled. "That's a bold statement, little girl."

"I'm not boasting," Nico replied sincerely. "It's what Dom does and he's good at it."

"Just good?" Jax asked, playing along.

Nico looked him straight in the eye. "The best."

"So you work for your old man?" Bobby asked Dominic directly.

"_I_ work for our father," Nico interjected tersely. "Dom only recently moved his crew up north in order to be closer to the family, which is why he had no idea whose toes he was stepping on."

Jax shook his head. "Ignorance is no excuse, darlin'. He should have vetted the situation before jumping in feet first, _especially_ in foreign territory."

"I got one better," Opie opened his mouth to chime in. "Why didn't Uncle Jimmy clue you in _before_ you went around pissing off his friends?"

"That's a good point, son. I mean, the Caccuza crew and the Sons have a relationship that goes back decades," Clay advised. "I think it's fair to say that not only does Jimmy know that SAMCRO runs protection for Unser Trucking, but that the area you hit last night falls into our territory as well. I assume he advised you that doing business in our neck of the woods comes with a price, right?"

"He did," Dominic concurred. "And if it makes a difference, he wasn't at all happy with me about yesterday."

"He was livid, actually," Nico clarified. "That's why we're here, because he sent us to take responsibility and make amends."

"What kind of amends?" Jax asked.

"Well, in order to conduct our business in NorCal and the Pacific Northwest, I'm offering to pay the Club our monthly vig upfront, up to a year in advance," Dominic offered.

"Keep talking," Jax retorted, seemingly not impressed. "That's business. I'm still waiting for the part where you start taking responsibility and making amends," he smirked.

Dominic flashed his sister with an exasperated look. "In addition," Nico continued, "Dom is offering the Sons a percentage of his profits for the next six months."

Surprised, Clay puffed on his cigar thoughtfully before nodding his head in askance at Jax. Ignoring Clay, Jax tipped his chin at Dominic. "Black market business must be booming," he said.

"He's doing all right," Nico replied instead.

Briefly giving Nico a sideways glance without turning his head, Jax refocused his attention on Dominic. "What percentage are we talking about?"

"Two points," Nico interjected once again.

Raising his eyebrows, Jax smirked as he looked at Dominic who was sitting quietly. Apparently, he had no problem with letting his sister do the talking. "Twenty," he shot back.

Nico almost swallowed her tongue. Even though Jimmy had said keep haggling to a minimum out of respect for his long-standing connection with SAMCRO, he also said the bikers would be reasonable in what they asked for. Twenty percent was not reasonable. Dominic had told her to start with five, advice she had ignored, and accept the second offer they made, but Nico was determined to get her brother his money's worth.

"Five," she countered.

"Darlin', we ain't negotiating shit until you move a little north of the single digits. Otherwise, you're just wasting good air," Jax declared with a wickedly boyish smile. "But since you did go up, I'll go down for ya. Eighteen."

Seeing Dominic opening his mouth to accept, Nico continued, "How about we go half that, huh?" She smiled coyly at Jax, who returned her smile with a long, lingering look at her cleavage meant to rattle her confidence before shaking his head.

"Sixteen," Jax said. Anything over ten percent was gravy for the Club, especially since they didn't have to earn it, so Jax had no problem playing along with the clearly self-confident young woman.

"Ten."

"I'll give you this much, darlin', you've got a nice pair there and I'm not just talking about the set you're carrying above the waistline," Jax declared. "Fourteen."

"Gold-plated," Nico replied cheekily. "Twelve."

"Thirteen." Jax watched as she stared him down and then shrugged.

"Done," she replied and held out a slim hand.

Reaching across the table, Jax took it in his and gripped it firmly before reaching over to shake Dominic's hand. "I think this calls for a drink, don't you?" he offered.

"Absolutely," Nico smiled. "Negotiating is thirsty work."

* * *

With dusk long gone, night had fallen on the SOA Clubhouse and, as was usually the case on a Friday night, the party was in full swing.

For at least one of the two visiting outsiders, however, the antics on display by some of the party-goers were certainly an eye-opening experience. But Nico couldn't really fault her little brother for feeling, as well as looking, painfully out of place. After all, he wasn't the sibling who had become more or less accustomed to partying with hardcore outlaw bikers on the regular.

After separating from her now ex-husband, Nico had taken on gambling as a hobby in an effort to keep from working herself to death. Like her father, who had taught her everything she knew about cards, Nico had a knack for poker in particular. With her family owning several casinos as well as illicit gambling dens in and around Reno, it wasn't easy indulging in her newly-acquired vice without getting recognized everywhere she went.

Her search for anonymity had led her to Indian Hills. Dropping tens of thousands of dollars at a time at Jury's place was a small price to pay for the "me time" she was free to enjoy without the pressure of being Nico Torelli. As far as anyone knew, she was just a bored housewife with too much time and money on her hands. Considering that she rarely lost and that most nights she preferred just sitting at the bar shooting the shit with Jury anyway, it dawned on Nico that it wasn't the gambling she was addicted to. It was the thought of living life as someone else, if only for a little while, that kept her coming back.

That and the totally hot biker that had given her the first real fucking of her life!

_Happy Lowman_. Nico couldn't even think his name without her nether region springing to life.

"Shit!" Dominic's sudden exclamation prevented Nico from letting her thoughts veer further into X-rated territory. "I heard bikers were a wild bunch, but damn," he said with a grin as he watched two shirtless men bare-knuckle fighting in the ring outside the Clubhouse on this slightly chilly NorCal winter night. He and Nico found themselves surrounded by a sea of kuttes as wild, semi-naked women heartily cheered the fighters on. "I don't think I'm old enough for this shit."

"It is something, isn't it?" Nico replied as she daintily sipped her long neck bottle of beer, avidly watching the grappling hard bodies gleaming with sweat.

_Definitely a lot cruder and wilder than Jury's place, _she thought with some amusement.

"Fifty bucks says the one with the Mohawk KO's the other guy," Nico wagered, nudging her brother in the ribs. Not five seconds after the words left her mouth, the well-developed "other guy" covered in tats decided to plow Mohawk's brick-like abs with determination. Throwing first a left, then a right and then another left, he grinned maniacally as his opponent stumbled back several steps from the impact.

"I wouldn't take it, if I was you," a gravelly-toned voice advised from somewhere behind the Torelli siblings, sending a wicked shiver down Nico's spine. "Don't let the Mohawk fool you. Our village idiot has been working on his game lately and, as I'm starting to realize, smaller doesn't always mean weaker," Happy directed at Nico as she and Dominic turned to face him.

Dominic grimaced as his features darkened dangerously. "Thanks for the unsolicited advice. If it's all the same to you, I think I'm gonna take the bet," he retorted irritably. "His reach is too short and he's sluggish on his feet. All the other guy has to do is land one solid punch and Mohawk will end up flat on his ass wondering how the fuck he got there."

Nico rolled her eyes as the two men flexed egos at each other. She had been waiting all evening for the SAMCRO SAA to make his move. Now, it seemed that her little brother was unwittingly determined to wind his ass up and spoil shit for her.

Apparently, playing it cool all night with a man like Happy was not the way to go. If memory served—and she knew that it did—he had been more responsive the night they had met in Indian Hills because she had been aggressive and assertive, displaying very little to no shame in letting him know exactly what she wanted from him. They had shared an instant, no-bullshit connection that had led to the best sex of her life and she had spent the next several months hoping for a repeat performance should they ever cross paths again. However, not one of those hotly-anticipated scenarios ever included having her little brother glued to her side as the self-appointed protector of her non-existent virtue.

After months of steamy solo sessions as she thought about Happy and his glorious body fucking her within an inch of her life, Nico had been thrown for a momentary loop when she had come face to face with him earlier that night. His dangerously handsome face had been set in granite, betraying very little when he had walked into the room and spotted her sitting at the bar. For a fleeting moment, Nico prepared herself for the possibility that she had been nothing more than a nameless and faceless pussy he had taken his pleasure with nearly five months and two weeks ago. Although she had managed to convince herself that she had seen a spark of recognition in his eyes, with a man as closed off and gruff as Happy, a girl could never really be quite sure.

It wasn't until he had called her Tiny during the pat down that her lady parts had started blooming once again in his presence. _He definitely remembers_, Nico had thought with an internal grin_._

The delicious thrill she had felt at the recognition had almost been enough for her to forgive him for not being around when she had "unexpectedly" turned up at Jury's to unwind. Although she had still managed to have herself a good time playing poker and alleviating the Sheriff of Douglas County of a shit load of money, it really hadn't been the kind of action she had been hoping to find.

Flash forward to the day before and the last thing Nico had expected when Uncle Jimmy had called was that she would find herself in California putting out a potential fire with the Sons of Anarchy. Having learned from Jury that Happy's home charter was in Charming, Nico knew that the chances of running into him were in her favor. However, after having spent most of the day doing research and making phone calls regarding SAMCRO and their President Jax Teller, Nico quickly came to realize that there were other potential benefits to be had with an association with the Club, none of which she had discussed with her brother. If she had analyzed the Intel she had gathered correctly, Nico hoped that she had made the right impression on the Club's President.

With the botched hijacking fire extinguished, it was starting to look like her peace-making abilities might still come in handy as Dominic and Happy seemed one or two pointed barbs away from getting into some shit that would require fists to fly. About to open her mouth in an effort to control the situation, Nico heard a loud thump and the sudden roar of the crowd. Turning her attention back to the ring, she wasn't surprised at all to see the huge patch splayed out across the mat as Mohawk pranced around the ring with his arms up in the air in victory.

"Looks like it was a sucker bet after all, Dom," Nico laughed as her brother shook his head in embarrassed disbelief. "Tell you what. Take a long hike on your way to getting me another beer and we'll call it even," she offered, rolling her eyes as Dominic eyed her suspiciously.

"Letting him off the hook won't teach him to listen to his betters," Happy goaded with a smirk.

Dominic huffed as he reached for his wallet. "I pay my debts," he said, pulling a crisp fifty dollar bill from his wallet and slamming it into Nico's hand. "And for the record, I have yet to come across any betters in this dump, _old man_," Dominic tossed off as he turned towards the Clubhouse. "I'll be right back," he said, a slight edge of warning in his tone as he eyed the biker.

"Take your time," Happy drawled. "I'll make sure your sister gets taken care of _real_ good."

Nico shook her head as she avoided the sharp look Dominic was aiming in her direction before he disappeared through the doorway. "Was that really necessary?"

"What?" Happy almost growled. "It was taking you long enough to ditch his ass. I just thought I'd help you along."

"Why would I want to ditch my brother?" Nico asked, her eyes wide with an innocence Happy knew first hand she did not possess.

"C'mon, girlie. You really need me to spell it out for you?" Happy said arrogantly, stepping into Nico's personal space and forcing her to raise her chin in order to look him in the eyes as he towered over her.

"I don't think I know what you're talking about," Nico bluffed. "The only reason I came to Charming was to support my brother during his discussions with your President."

"Don't you mean handle his shit for him?" Happy asked smugly. "What? Is he the baby of the family, used to stepping aside and letting his big sis do all the talking for him?"

Crossing her arms over her ample chest, Nico felt her ire suddenly rising. "You don't know shit about my family," she said challengingly.

"Maybe," Happy shrugged his shoulders, "but I know all I need to know about your brother. It was his crew that stirred shit up yesterday, yet he let you clean it up."

"Dom can handle anything he needs to," Nico stated adamantly. "It's my job to fix whatever needs fixing."

"You sure about that, tiny bitch?" Happy said quietly and smirked as he saw her blue eyes flash.

"Five foot three is _not_ tiny," she muttered.

"It is to me," Happy retorted. "I'm nearly a foot taller than you."

"Not tonight you're not," Nico said, kicking up a well shod 5-inch heel.

"I sure was last summer," he said silkily. "Or did you forget?" He watched with grim satisfaction as, despite the noise of the crowd, he heard her swallow the lump in her throat.

_I didn't forget shit._

"I don't recall," she lied, slightly breathless.

"I can _remind_ you."

Feeling a pool of moist heat forming at the base of her thighs, Nico ordered herself to get a grip just as she decided to give in. Opening her mouth to tell him to name the time and place—all the while hoping he had place nearby—she nearly screamed in frustration when Dominic picked up her hand and slapped a beer in it.

"Drink up, Nico," Dominic said as he warily eyed Happy after finding the biker standing just a little too close to his sister. "It's been great and all," he offered the SAA a totally insincere grin, "but we gotta head back to Reno tonight."

Nico quirked an arched eyebrow at Dominic. "The plan was to head back tomorrow," she countered.

"It's Pop," Dominic said noncommittally. "We gotta roll _now_."

Nico's expression didn't change an iota as she allowed her eyes to fasten onto ones that were as dark as pitch. "It was nice chatting with you," she said to Happy with an easy smile before tipping the beer back. Taking a deep swallow, she handed it over to him as his fingers grazed across hers. Nico bit her bottom lip as Happy directed a barely perceptible wink in her direction before bringing the bottle up to his own lips.

"Let's go!" Dominic said gruffly as he gestured impatiently for Nico to follow him into the parking lot.

"Please let Jax know we'll be in touch soon regarding the vig," she said before turning to cut through the crowd to get to her car.

"Sure thing, _Tiny_," Happy called out.

"What the fuck did he just call you?" Dominic asked with a frown as he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Never you mind," Nico said, the sexy biker forgotten for the moment as she focused on what she feared was yet another shit storm brewing on the horizon. Pulling open her door she slid into the driver's seat. "Strap in, little brother," she ordered. "This is going to be one hell of a ride."

Pulling out of the parking, Nico took one last long look in her rearview mirror to see Happy rooted to the spot she had left him in as he watched her with an intensity she could almost feel.

_Don't you worry, tiger. We'll be seeing each other again real soon_, Nico smiled to herself. _And next time, no one will stop shit from happening._

* * *

**A/N****: Yeah, ****I know. I'm just a big ol' tease for giving you a taste, only to yank it away at the last second. Don't worry, y'all. The hotness that was Happy and Nico together will soon make an appearance once again.**

**As a special reward, I decided to post this chapter a week early, but note that two chapters a week will not be the norm this time around. Thank you again for reading and I look forward to hearing from all of you in your reviews.**

**Hugs, Harlee.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

* * *

_**Wednesday, January 19, 2011**_

Kozik shook his head and rolled his eyes as he heard the clang-clanging of a wrench as it hit the very expensive engine of the Mack truck he had bought to T-M for service.

"Geez, Tig! What the fuck are you doin'?" Kozik finally exclaimed exasperated. Stepping up to the cab of the truck, he reached under the hood and grabbed the torque wrench out of Tig's hand. "I bought her in 'cause she was leakin' transmission fluid. Keep wailing on her like that and we're gonna have to rebuild the fuckin' engine!"

"Hey!" Tig pulled himself out from under the hood and jabbed at Kozik's kutte with grease-stained fingers. "Don't tell me how to do my job."

"Hey! Watch the leather, douchebag!" Kozik slapped his hand away.

"Then don't be grabbing shit outta my hand!" Tig snapped as he did just that and snatched the wrench back from Kozik.

"Then stop acting like a big ape, you moron!" Kozik argued.

Tig glared at his brother as he threw the wrench onto a worktable and started wiping his hands with the rag hanging from the belt of his work pants. "That's the thanks I get for tryin' to help you out, shit head? You call me names? If anyone's a knuckle-dragger around here, it's you."

"You know, you're right," Kozik replied half-heartedly. "You're too stupid to be an ape 'cause at least chimps _know_ how to use fuckin' tools."

Tig threw his dirty rag at Kozik, hitting him in the face. "Okay, smart guy. You fix the damn truck then," he said stepping aside as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his T-M work shirt. "I know where the leak's comin' from, but let's see how long it takes you to find it."

"Fine!" Kozik declared. "If you want something done right, it's always better to do it yourself anyways," he said as he removed his kutte and hung it with great care on a hook on the opposite side of the bay. Striding back towards the truck as he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, Kozik heard Tig let out a high-pitched wolf whistle.

"Well, looky-looky here," Tig said lecherously, causing Kozik to sidestep the truck, ending up at his brother's side at the bay entrance. "Look whose perky ass has finally found her way back to the lot to take me up on my offer."

Kozik scoffed as he caught sight of the familiar powder blue Porsche as it roared its way into the parking lot. "If anything, she's here for me, asshole," he stated with a confidence that matched Tig's. "Not only is the broad smart, but she seemed relatively sane too, something that ain't in your wheelhouse, brother."

"What's in my wheelhouse is a foot long dick," Tig retorted as he grabbed a handful of his crotch, "which I know will work on her just fine." Turning away from Kozik, Tig sauntered his way across the lot.

"This is some shit I gotta see," Kozik muttered as he quickly followed Tig.

It had been several weeks since the Torelli siblings had blown their way in and out of Charming. Delivering the vig that Dominic Torelli owed the Sons seemed like a chore more in line for a grunt to handle. For that reason, Kozik found it somewhat strange that the undeniably sexier and more attractive Torelli sibling would drive more than four hours from Reno just to deliver it.

_Maybe Tiggy's right and she's back looking to hook up with a biker_, he surmised, but quickly revised his opinion as Nico exited her car.

"Nah, she ain't dressed for no damn booty call," Kozik muttered regretfully under his breath, cutting loose with a quiet whistle as he took her in.

Instead of a sexy figuring-hugging outfit of black leather, Nico Torelli was dressed in a red pantsuit and a white blouse with a cowl neckline made of what looked like silk to Kozik's untrained eye. Towering on six-inch black heels with red soles and swinging a leather handbag, the woman's glossy dark brown hair shimmered in the winter sun as it flowed in waves over the shoulders of an off-white, knee-length light wool coat.

_Looks like she's all business today_, Kozik thought to himself and sped up to catch Tig in order to stop him from saying something totally inappropriate.

_Too fuckin' late!_

Tig leaned a strong arm on the car top, stepping right into Nico's personal space, and eyed her up and down with a sexy smirk. "Hiya, doll face. If you're here to play domineering boss and submissive secretary, I just want you to know that I am _all_ about that shit."

Kozik watched as Nico cocked her head back to eye his brother. "Uh, me as a submissive _anything_ is so totally not my thing. Now, a dominatrix whipping her slave into a blubbering pool of sexual frenzy at her well-heeled feet," she grinned fiercely, "_that's_ more up my alley."

"Fuck yeah, babe!" Tig simultaneously hooted and drooled. "I got a room in the Clubhouse, some chains, a few toys and plenty of lube too—" he started, only to be unceremoniously shoved to the side by Kozik.

"Jesus, asshole! Put the snake back in your pants. I don't think 'Uncle Jimmy' would appreciate you talkin' to his niece like that," Kozik chided and turned to offer Nico an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. He don't get out much."

"I gathered as much," Nico said drolly.

Kozik grinned and couldn't keep himself from eyeing the attractive brunette up and down before airbrushing the arm of her coat. "Is that shit cashmere?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Cashmere? What the fuck is cashmere?" Tig asked and Kozik watched as Nico bit her bottom lip in an attempt to keep from laughing out loud.

"It's a type of wool, asshole," Kozik replied. "Am I right?" he asked Nico.

"Yes, you are, on both counts," Nico said with a smile. "You are a very discerning man, Kozik."

"Hear that Tiggy? _I'm_ discerning," he preened.

"What you are is a _fuckwit_," Tig retorted irritably. "Is there something you're not tellin' me, Kozy? Why would you know that shit? Keep on cock-blocking me and I'm gonna set your ass up with Juice."

"Fuck you, asshole!" Kozik challenged.

Nico coughed delicately into her hand in an attempt to get the bickering pair's attention. "I don't mean to interrupt," she lied, hoping to prevent a fist fight from breaking out right in front of her. "I'm here to see your Pres regarding some business. Is he around?"

"He's right behind you," Jax replied. Doing a 180, Nico turned to see the handsome blond ambling his way over to where she stood from the somewhere inside the garage.

_And he's not alone._

Nico watched Jax Teller approach, once again flanked by his SAA on the right and his VP on the left. The three tall and well-built men made a visually powerful impact. Looking into Happy's mirrored sunglasses, feeling rather than actually knowing that his attention was riveted on her as she was unable to see his dark eyes, Nico felt the sudden pull of their mutual sexual attraction down to her core.

_Down girl, this is not the time,_ she admonished herself.

She had made the special trip to Charming to deal with business slightly more important than her libido. Not by much, however. After all, it had been almost six months since the last time she had gotten laid, but important business nonetheless. Because of that, Nico forced herself to focus all of her attention and energy on the man that was the power base of the Sons of Anarchy.

"Jax," she said, holding a hand out and shaking his. "Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"It's my pleasure," Jax replied graciously. "As my brothers know, I will always make time for a woman, especially one as lovely as you."

"Well, I certainly hope that one day I'll get to meet the woman that raised such a gentleman," Nico smiled.

"Wait, hold on a sec," Tig interrupted. "You knew she was coming?" he asked Jax incredulously. Opening his T-M work shirt, Tig revealed a worn wife-beater t-shirt covered with fresh as well as old grease stains. "You coulda warned a brother, you know. I would have cleaned up."

"What the hell for?" Happy scoffed somewhat angrily. "Clean up all you want, ain't nothing you can do to fix that ugly mug of yours."

"Fuck you, Hap," Tig said with a massive eye roll.

"A'ight!" Jax interjected. "Put a sock in it you two," he ordered. "I got the important shit covered, Tigger. Nico, please, follow me."

Turning to follow the SAMCRO Pres, Nico offered Tig an apologetic smile over her shoulder, nearly face-planting into the SAA's muscled chest for her trouble. Taking a step back, Nico casually let her eyes rake over Happy's long lithe body before ending on his face.

_Damn, he is looking too fine today_, Nico smiled to herself as she stepped around him and continued following Jax.

With their last face-to-face meet brought to a frustrating and premature end, Nico entered the Clubhouse house with the intention of making that shit right sooner rather than later.

* * *

"So," Jax drawled. Placing a mug of hot coffee in front of Nico, he sat down in a chair opposite her and leaned back. "Something tells me you didn't drive that pretty little cage of yours all the way from Reno just to drop off the vig, hoping to score a shitty cup of Joe, darlin'."

"Well, not _just_," Nico replied. Picking up the mug, she took a delicate sip of its contents and was pleasantly surprised by the robust flavor. "And I wouldn't call this a shitty cup of coffee, but since you mentioned it," she put down the mug and, reaching into her handbag, pulled out a fat manila envelope and placed it in the middle of the table. "Let's get that bit of business out of the way, shall we?"

Nico watched as the VP picked up the offering, extracting a neat stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills bound together by a mustard-colored currency strap that read "$10,000". Letting out a low whistle as he fanned through the bills with a thick thumb, Opie looked Nico in the eyes. "There are five more just like it in here."

"I am aware, after all, I counted it myself," Nico stated, one leg crossed over the other at the knee and her hands resting casually in her lap. "Sixty grand was the number we agreed on for a vig paid a year in advance, was it not?" she asked Jax, who nodded his head once in agreement, his face otherwise betraying nothing.

"Hijacking other people's shit must pay a lot of bank," Opie said, dropping the stack of bills into the envelope before tossing it onto the table.

"If done by professionals, it can be quite lucrative," Nico replied, her chin up in the air, "and as I said before, my brother is the best."

"And what about you, Nico?" Jax spoke up. "We never really got around to discussing what kind of work it is you do for your father."

"Whatever it is, must be _lucrative_ as well," Opie stated as he crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her somewhat suspiciously. "Judging by the designer power suit."

"That's right," Jax started with a smirk. "We usually don't see women dressed like you around here, unless it's my attorney."

Nico smiled sheepishly as she threw her hands up and shrugged her dainty shoulders. "You got me. I am in-house counsel for my father's conglomerate, which includes several hotels, casinos, restaurants, bars—"

"Among _other_ things," Opie added sarcastically.

Nico nodded. "Yes, in addition to the hospitality business, the Syndicate—as its known—also dabbles in construction and waste management, among _other_ things," she replied and watched as the SAMCRO Pres nodded slowly, seemingly unsurprised by the revelation of her position in her father's organization.

On the other hand, sitting back in his chair, Happy stared Nico up and down as he tried to hide his own surprise. From the moment he had met her, there had been no doubt in Happy's mind that Tiny was some sort of educated, hoity-toity high-class piece of ass. Never would he have guessed, however, that she was a shark in designer duds with organized crime connections.

_A fuckin' mob lawyer!_

Apparently, Happy wasn't the only one struggling to wrap his head around Nico's claim. "You? A mouthpiece for the mob?" Opie queried, his voice skeptical, and then he chuckled. "I don't buy it, mafia princess."

Nico cocked an eyebrow at Opie. "What's so hard to believe?"

"You mean, aside from the obvious?" Happy inserted.

"Meaning that I'm a woman?" Nico asked although she already knew the answer.

"Yeah, that and the fact that you're probably not old enough to be out of law school yet," Opie added.

"I'd consider that a compliment if it weren't so backhanded," Nico smirked.

"How old _are_ you?" Jax asked curiously.

"How old are _you_?" Nico shot back.

"Thirty-three," he replied without hesitation.

"Well, let's just say I'm older than you and leave it at that." Nico smiled. "And I assure you," she directed at Opie, "I graduated law school quite some time ago and passed the bar on my first try. Any organization would be lucky to have me on its payroll," she boasted.

"And you're saying you're on the Syndicate's payroll?" Jax asked a little warily himself.

"Yes, I am," Nico stated emphatically. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Other than having the box set of _The Sopranos_, darlin', I know next to nothing about the hierarchy of a mob family," Jax explained. "So, pardon me for saying so, but generally speaking I was under the impression that there usually isn't a whole lot of female involvement in the 'family business', am I right?"

"You are absolutely right, but times are a'changin'," Nico replied. "I may not have the equipment required to enter a men's room and sling it around like the big boys, but that—along with my Master's in business and my law degree—works to my advantage. Over the years, I've acquired a skill set that both my father and my uncle not only admire, but are open-minded enough to utilize, allowing the Syndicate's legitimate holdings to flourish." She leaned back in her chair. "I gather that it's safe to assume that you've done your due diligence and ran a background check on us."

Jax nodded. "It's nothing personal, you understand. SAMCRO does have a long-standing business as well as personal relationship with Jimmy Cacuzza, but we're not at all familiar with the Torelli branch of the family tree, especially since it's based in Reno."

"No personal offence taken," Nico replied. "As a matter of fact, I expected no less from the Sons."

Jax sat up and put his elbows on the table. "As in-house counsel for the Syndicate, I bet you're up to your neck in the day-to-day aspects of the legitimate side of the business," he stated with interest and Nico nodded in agreement. "How deep are you involved in the not-so-legitimate side?"

"About waist-deep," Nico replied candidly. "When it comes to the _other_ side of the family business, I'm what's considered a facilitator or a fixer. I basically put out fires by taking care of shit that requires absolute discretion and brains instead of muscle. I troubleshoot, not with a gun but by manipulating the law and I answer only to my father and now my uncle."

"Sounds like a big job for such a little girl," Opie opined, somewhat impressed.

"This time, I'll take that as a compliment in spite of its backhandedness," Nico retorted good-naturedly.

"Okay, so why bother telling us all this?" Happy asked irritably, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sounds like you're making a sales pitch, so it must be for a reason."

Nico smiled as she turned her sapphire blue eyes on him. "Because I know I can help the MC," she said with quiet confidence.

Jax eyed her gravely. "Help us in what way?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why, help the Club go completely legit, of course," Nico said sweetly. "After all, isn't that what you're trying to accomplish, Jax?"

* * *

Although the three men sitting before her seemed comfortably at ease, Nico had noted the subtle change in Jax's eyes and knew that her shot across the bow had scored a direct hit. She also knew she was taking a huge chance coming at the Sons with such an aggressive approach, but that was just her style when it came down to business. As a woman in a man's world, Nico had quickly learned that it was always best to come across like a tough bitch instead of soft and easily manipulated. Now, as she eyed these men who were openly eyeing her in return, Nico hoped she hadn't overplayed her hand by putting all of her cards on the table so soon.

"That's certainly an interesting, yet misinformed theory," Jax said calmly. "I hate to rain on your parade, Nico, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Nico chuckled as she looked Jax right in the eye. "I know _you know_ exactly what I'm talking about, Jax. Simply put, my theories are never misinformed. I gather Intel, analyze facts and determine every outcome statistically possible before forming a theory, and I'm right 95% of the time," she explained confidently. "I also learned the family business at my father's knee. He taught me how to read people and their behavior as well as how to interpret subtle changes in organizations that can predict shifting agendas and changes to long-term goals."

Opie scoffed. "And what makes you think you know shit about SAMCRO's agenda or long-term goals?"

"Sometimes," Nico started as she leaned forward and folded her hands on the table, "it's not what you know, but who you know and what _they_ know that makes all the difference in the world. Working for my family has enabled me to establish an impressive roster of contacts. People and organizations with strong connections to the Syndicate, from low-level informants in the public and private sector to politicians and influential money makers across three states. These connections see and hear things that they are more than willing to pass along to me."

Jax let out a sigh as if to say he was growing bored with their conversation. "With all due respect, Nico, I'm still not understanding where you're going with this."

"Okay, we'll play it your way, Jax," Nico smiled. "For starters, while doing my research, I noted the recent change in the leadership of the Club which sent up a red flag."

Jax chuckled. "Really? A red flag?" he asked skeptically. "It's not unusual for the presidency to exchange hands in a motorcycle club, darlin'. After all, we are a democratic organization."

"No, it's not unusual," Nico agreed pleasantly. "An across-the-board change in leadership and officers, however, is an early indicator of major shifts on the horizon, especially when that change is referred to by some as a 'coup'."

"Hearsay," Jax stated emphatically, "but don't let that stop you. Go on, please."

"I know that prior to you and the majority of your Club ending up in Stockton Prison on federal gun charges, SAMCRO suffered some huge losses and major setbacks, including a fire that caused the complete destruction of Cara Cara Studios. By the way," Nico stated, suddenly slipping into the role of advisor. "It's not too late to file a claim for the insurance on the studio. From what I understand, your insurance company was right to deny your claim based on the word of your sole eyewitness, a convicted felon. As a matter of fact, I took the liberty of having several independent experts review the Fire Marshall's report, including photographs and other evidence, and they all disagreed with the eye witness' statement that the fire was caused by arson."

Jax looked from Happy to Opie before all three laughed, knowing for a fact that Chucky had seen A.J. Weston and his crew of white supremacist skin heads deliberately set the fire that had destroyed Cara Cara. "So what caused the fire, according to these experts?" Jax asked sardonically.

"The faulty wiring in your heating unit," Nico advised with a knowing smile. "And I have their written reports and sworn affidavits attesting to this fact, everything you could possibly need in order to re-file your claim successfully. If you'd like, I can have my office overnight those documents to your present counsel," she offered helpfully.

Jax laughed softly as he shook his head. "And how much will all this cost us?"

"I did the work _pro bono_, Jax, so it's free of charge," Nico replied sincerely. "Just a show of good-faith effort so you and your officers know what I'm capable of."

A successful claim meant the Club would be in line to receive several hundred thousand dollars in insurance money. If Nico Torelli was capable of pulling that off with her so-called connections and by greasing the right palms, that would indeed be quite impressive, a fact Jax was unwilling to cop to. At least not yet, anyway.

Shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn't be made to care one way or another, Jax said, "Why not? Send them over to our lawyers and we'll have them re-file the claim, see what happens. I should have their business card around here somewhere."

"Won't be necessary," Nico waved him away politely. "I'm quite familiar with the firm you have on retainer, Rosen Lowen & Associates. Once we're done here, I'll text my assistant and have her send the docs over ASAP."

"So if you know the Club has a pair of sharks on speed dial," Happy started, "why the dog and pony show?"

"Because while Scott Rosen and Ally Lowen are quite good," Nico started and smiled, "I'm better. First of all, I know you weren't just protecting that cargo my brother attempted to take down. You were transporting it as well because SAMCRO _is_ Unser Trucking," she revealed. "Rosen and Lowen did an excellent job in laundering the money used to purchase and revamp the business, but they were lousy in creating a paper trail. All it took were a few mouse clicks to unravel the scheme and reveal that the money was dirty, which can and _will_ cause you huge headaches down the road if not fixed right away. Also, I understand they're having trouble clearing some roadblocks you've come across in trying to restart Cara Cara Productions in Stockton, roadblocks that don't exist for me."

Jax eyed her suspiciously. "How did you hear about that?"

"Charles Barosky," Nico replied without hesitation. "Smart move, by the way, aligning yourselves with the Lord of the Docks. And don't worry, he would never spill those beans to anyone but me. Good old Charlie and my family go way back to his days with Stockton PD. He owes us a few favors," she smiled serenely.

As the silence stretched uncomfortably amongst the group, Jax's stare directed at Nico was hard but unreadable. It was clear to Nico that she had gotten the wheels turning in his mind as he considered all she had said so far. It was Happy, however, who felt compelled to challenge her further.

"You keep talkin' like you know some shit," he retorted. "So what if SAMCRO's looking to take on some legit businesses. It ain't a crime and it don't have shit to do with our other business."

Nico shook her head. "But it is a crime if you're using unlaundered profits from gun-running to buy into legitimate businesses. That's Organized Crime 101," she chided, not-so-gently. "You may have managed to evade the ATF for twenty-plus years, but Uncle Sam always expects his cut and getting nabbed on tax evasion is a rookie mistake that's easily avoidable."

Nico watched as Jax eyed both his officers once again, noting their unspoken communication. Apparently, it seemed she had finally struck a chord with the SAMCRO President.

Focusing intense blue eyes on her, Jax started, "Let's say, for shits and giggles, that the plan is to steer Club business into a more legit direction and that I choose to believe you're as good as you say you are, what are your services gonna cost us?" he asked sardonically. "Because I can't believe that your offer to help has anything to do with making up for your brother's fuck up."

"Oh, no. The vig Dom paid takes care of that. The terms of my 'employment' would be _quid pro quo_—you do for me, I do for you," Nico explained with a smirk. "For instance, for the next six months, I will work exclusively with the Sons to legitimize the Club while waiving my hourly fee. I will, however, require a sizeable retainer for expenses—"

"Expenses?!" the frugal miser in Happy blurted out. "What kind of expenses, mani-pedis and spa treatments?"

Nico narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. "More along the lines of pay-offs, bribes, and kick-backs. I may work for free, but my connections certainly don't."

"But you wouldn't be working for free," Jax noted. "Remember, _quid pro quo_? What is it that you want us to do for you?"

All three men waited and watched as Nico moistened her lips and formed them into a hard line. "I need SAMCRO to eliminate a traitor from the Torelli ranks."

* * *

_Well, shit, Tiny is just plain fuckin' nuts_, Happy thought as silence filled the room after she had made her bold statement.

The SAA wasn't completely taken by surprise, however. After hearing her break down the information she had probably worked hard to accumulate on the Club, it was obvious that she had been leading up to something. On the other hand, what he hadn't bargained for was a contract hit and, apparently, neither had Jax.

"You're asking us to kill someone for you?" Jax asked perplexed and watched as Nico gave him a sharp nod. "You work for the fuckin' mob. Ain't that shit more up your alley than it is ours?"

"It's complicated," she said briefly.

"Then you're just gonna have to un-complicate shit for us 'cause Jax is right," Happy said gruffly. "Stringing people up with piano wire is a mob specialty. Why not just handle it yourselves?"

"If only it were that simple, I wouldn't be here," Nico said and sighed a little before running her fingers through her hair. "It's a delicate situation that I'm taking a huge risk in bringing to you, but I need SAMCRO to make a serious threat to my family go away quickly, quietly and permanently, with no blowback whatsoever. If this falls on me, it falls on my family and I can't have that," she eyed Jax resolutely, "but I was told that I could count on the Club's discretion, so I need to hear you say it before I can continue."

"Out of respect for your Uncle Jimmy, yeah," Jax stated. "You can trust me and my officers to keep shit confidential, but I can't promise that we'll take you up on your offer."

"Good enough," she replied and took another sip of coffee before speaking. "My father is currently serving three-to-five in Ely State Penitentiary, a medium security facility in Nevada," she started. Noting the sardonic expression that flitted across the SAA's face, Nico pursed her lips. "Something funny about that?" she asked slightly irritated.

"Yeah, a little," Happy goaded. "Not much of a hot shit attorney are ya if daddy's serving time, huh?" He grinned in satisfaction as a battle light entered into her eyes.

"I am an excellent corporate attorney," she retorted sternly. "The family's criminal counsel, my second cousin, should have gone into the priesthood instead like his mother had wanted him to. He made several procedural errors that landed my father in prison. Needless to say, he's no longer my father's counsel or practicing law, for that matter."

"Something tells me he ain't practicing much of anything these days," Opie muttered under his breath, causing Happy to chuckle.

Ignoring them, Nico addressed Jax. "My father was recently diagnosed with liver cancer and his new counsel is actively working to get him out on a compassionate release." Nico's lips tightened. "Meanwhile, as he's languishing in prison without proper medical care, an attempt was made on his life. He's in protective custody now, but he just barely survived the attack and is still struggling to recover. I'm sure you know what that's like," she said soberly as she eyed Jax.

"Yeah, I do," Jax replied just as soberly. "I'm sorry to hear that about your father. Is he gonna be all right?"

"The cancer is killing him but obviously not quick enough for the piece of shit that wants him dead _now_, so no, I don't think he's going to be all right," Nico replied. "Not unless we get him out of there for the treatment he needs _and_ eliminate the internal threat that wants him dead."

"Did I miss something?" Opie asked. "Why are you so sure the order for the hit on your father came from within your ranks?"

"Convicts with a lot of time on their hands see and hear a lot. The warden, a family _friend_, caught wind of talk regarding a hostile takeover of the Syndicate involving a number of high-ranking members. Although others are involved, several unrelated sources led us to _one_ man in particular and Jimmy was able to confirm it," Nico explained. "We could get rid of him today if we wanted to, but that would mean risking an internal war. That's why the Torelli and Cacuzza branches of the Syndicate need total deniability. It can't look like a mob hit or the others involved will spook."

"That's a big risk you're asking us to take for _quid pro quo_," Jax stated.

"Did I forget to mention the $250K contract fee?" Nico smirked as the three officers could do very little to hide their surprise. "Just know that I need to be there to question him before he dies and that there can't be any damage done to his face."

Nico waited as the SAMCRO Pres eyed her silently before he spoke. "Give us some time to think things over, including taking you up on your offer to help with our 'hypothetical' business situation." He held out a hand across the table. "Deal?"

Nico felt the tension in her ease just the tiniest bit. Extending her hand, she took his in a firm grip. "Deal."

Releasing his hand, Nico stood up and casually tossed on her coat. "I'm staying at the Hilton in Stockton before I head back to Reno in the morning." She pulled a gold-embossed business card from her pocket and handed it Jax. "That's my personal cell, completely clean and untraceable. Give me a call when you come to a decision and thanks for hearing me out." Reaching around, she offered a hand to Opie who shook it firmly before she turned and offered her hand to Happy, her belly tightening as his large hand engulfed hers.

Telling her inner whore to keep her thong on, Nico focused on the "Unholy One" and "Men of Mayhem" patches on his kutte. "I take it those decorations are for services to the Club that include more than just a wink and a smile," she said easily as she looked into his dark eyes.

"I do whatever's necessary," he replied.

"Yeah, that tattoo around your neck pretty much speaks for itself," she murmured. Jax and Opie exchanged a perplexed look as Happy was wearing a collared shirt, no tats—except for the ink on his bald head—visible.

Realizing that she was still holding onto his hand, Nico reluctantly let it go, hoping that the slight flush she felt all over her body had not stained her cheeks as well. The smirks exchanged by the Pres and his VP indicated otherwise, however.

_Shit!_

Feeling emboldened by the heated look in Happy's eyes, in spite of blushing like a teenage girl, Nico turned to focus on Jax. "If the Club decides to help us out," she cocked her head in Happy's direction, "please consider having him do the job. I have a good feeling about him."

* * *

_All things considered_, Nico thought lazily as she used the plush soapy sponge to trail water up and down her leg, _things went well with the Sons_.

Leaning her head against the bath pillow behind her neck, Nico sighed as the hot steamy water penetrated her bones. It had been a long and taxing day and the extremely girly-side of her nature needed some pampering, which she decided included a long soak in the oversized marble tub to help her unwind.

Following her meeting with the Sons, Nico had spent the rest of the day at the Torelli Construction Supply Company's warehouse located in Stockton's industrial area. It was one of three highly profitable construction-based businesses the Torellis owned as part of the legitimate arm of the Syndicate. Handling legal issues related to the construction and hospitality industries was just a small part of her daily duties, which included quarterly reviews of financial statements, writing contracts and endorsements as well as sitting in for her father as Acting Chair at Board meetings. Nico loved the work, but it was something she could practically do in her sleep and after dealing with the Sons, it had nearly bored her to tears.

Overall, she had walked away from her meeting with Jax Teller and his officers quite pleased and thoroughly optimistic. Her extensive research into the MC had served her well. Although there had been a number of startling discoveries she had made which she had seen no need to mention—such as the kidnapping and subsequent rescue of his infant son—Nico knew she had been right to approach the SAMCRO Pres on an entirely business level. A college degree may make a man smart, but not necessarily savvy. Jax Teller was both—book smart and street wise. Now, all she had to do was wait him out because she was convinced that he was going to take her up on her offer.

Upon her return to the hotel, Nico had called her uncle to give him a progress report as to how everything had played out. Sighing as she flipped on the jets of the whirlpool tub, she played over their conversation in her mind.

"_So what do you think, Cara?" Jimmy asked. "I may be an old street hood, but I'm still on my game. I have a good feeling about Jackson and the Club has been very good to the family—our family for many years."_

"_You were __right, Zi__o," Nico agreed. "As a matter of fact, I felt enough confidence in Jax Teller and his leadership of the Club that I told him why we needed the hit." She was met by eerie silence on the other end of the line._

"_Nico, d__o you really think that was wise?" Jimmy questioned in a hushed tone._

"_Whether it was wise remains to be seen, but __I think it was __necessary__," Nico retorted. "Jax doesn't seem the type to ask 'how high' when someone says 'jump' just because they're waving a few 100K in his face. I can tell he takes his responsibility as the leader of his Club to heart and I think it's a good sign that he feels the need to analyze the situation thoroughly first. Frankly, I wouldn't have trusted him as the right man for the job had he accepted right away."_

"_Yeah, of course you're right," Jimmy conceded with a chuckle. "Most __of my dealings with SAMCRO have been through his stepfather, but I know Clay Morrow. He doesn't suffer fools lightly and neither do you. I trust your judgment on this, Cara."_

"_The easy part's over, Zio," __Nico replied tiredly. "After all is said and done, the hard part will be getting Dom to focus on the family business."_

_Jimmy sighed heavily. "Nicoletta, you know I love Dominic Vincenzo as if he were my own son, but I have yet to see him do one thing that convinces me he's serious about taking over for your father," he said irritably. "Gianni __built an empire for him and all he wants to do is race cars. With all the hard work you put into the business, you should have been born a man, Nico. Your father could have left it all to you and with my blessing too!"_

"_Zio, please! Whatever you do, don't let Ma hear you say shit like that. She's already convinced that I have aspirations of being 'Lady Boss' some day," __Nico chastised her uncle lightly._

"_And so what?" Jimmy retorted. "It's that old school Italian way of thinking that can be bad for business. Instead of installing someone who'd rather being doing something else, why not hand the reins over to someone with a head for the business?__"_

"_And ovaries?" Nico laughed. "I don't see that happening in my lifetime, Zio. Besides, __Dom can and will learn the business. We just have to give him some time to adjust and learn," she defended her little brother._

"_Time is a luxury Gianni may not have much left to give him, Cara," Jimmy said ominously. "Your father worked his fingers to the bone getting this family where it is today. If I had half what Gianni has to leave to a son, I'd be pissed off royally if he turned his back on it."_

"_It's too bad you never married."_

"_Eh, I was busy having too much fun. Still am, too. Besides, I have my nieces and nephew to spoil rotten. My sister did good pumping you kids out for Gianni." _

"_Why did you have to go and mention Ma?" __she asked irritably. "We were having such a nice conversation."_

"_Oy, you brought her up first!" Jimmy laughed. "When are you and your ma gonna __stop butting heads, huh?"_

"_Just as soon as she stops butting into my life," Nico quickly replied._

"_Rosie's an old-school Italian mother__, Nico, so that shit ain't gonna happen," Jimmy started. "She just wants for her girls what she has with Gianni, love, security and family."_

"_I have all that, Uncle Jimmy," Nico argued lightly. "Why can't she just be happy that I'm happy?"_

"_Are you, though?" her uncle pressed._

_Nico's eyes rolled to the back of her head. "Not you too, Zio!"_

"_Hey, hey, just hear me out," Jimmy replied. "I'm not saying go out there and find yourself a nice Italian boy to settle down with. Far from it, sweetheart. You and me, we're a lot alike. We have a passion for what we do for a living, am I right?"_

_Nico let out a sigh. "Yes, you are."_

"_And I'm the last person in the world trying to sell ya on this marriage deal, 'kay? That's Rosie's shtick, not mine," Jimmy insisted. "But all work and no play, Nico, and you're gonna end up burning out before your time. Listen to your Uncle Jimmy on this. A little distraction of the opposite sex variety goes a long way," he advised and Nico burst out laughing. "What's so funny? I'm being serious here."_

_Nico coughed in an effort to control her laughter. "I know you are, Zio. I'm sorry," she apologized. "No need to worry, however. I have plenty to keep me distracted in that regard."_

_Nico could hear Jimmy chuckle on the other end of the line. "Good for you. I don't need the deets, but I'm glad to hear that, Cara. Your father kinda sent me on a fishing expedition 'cause he worries about you," he admitted. "Your happiness means the world to him, you know this."_

"_I do," Nico replied. "And his well-being means the world to me. He needs to stop worrying about others and concentrate on getting better."_

"_Yeah, good luck tryin' to convince him of that shit," Jimmy said. "He also wanted me to box your ears for not visiting lately."_

_Nico pinched the bridge of her nose. "He knows if I could I'd visit every day, but until this situation has been dealt with, it's best if I keep my visits to a minimum."_

"_Yeah, he knows you're watching out for him. He just misses seeing his mini-me. He's proud of you and how you're handling this turncoat situation for him."_

"_Don't let him declare victory just yet, Zio," Nico cautioned. "We're not any closer to a resolution than we were yesterday."_

"_That's where you're wrong, sweetheart," Jimmy responded. "You reached out and set things in motion with the Sons. They'll come through for us, they always have, and when they do, we'll put this shit to bed quickly and quietly." _

Pulling the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket next to the tub, Nico filled the delicate crystal flute to the brim with the icy wine and took several indulgent gulps. As much as she was sure her uncle believed he was paying her a compliment, Nico was still chafed by the general mentality shared by the boys' club that was the Syndicate that she was somehow inferior because of her gender. They considered it "cute" that she liked to _play _at being a "career gal". While many teased her light-heartedly, others had no issue with blatantly telling her to cut that shit out and start having more babies before she got too old, as if her worthiness were tied to her ovaries. If only they knew that the only thing "tied" were her ovaries, a procedure she had secretly done when her then-husband thought she was spending a week in a spa.

Despite that stupid mentality, Nico managed to do quite a lot for the Syndicate, thanks in large part to her father. Gianni Torelli was and would always be her greatest, albeit secret cheerleader. He had always been the one to pick her up and dust her off when her male cousins played too rough, whispering his encouragement to go out there and kick their asses. He had recognized her mind for business early on and had supported her desire to finish college even when her mother and then new-husband had been clamoring for her to have a baby.

Gianni "Brooklyn Johnny T" Torelli was the one man in her life—aside from her own son—Nico knew without a doubt loved her unconditionally. He had been her hero from the day she had taken her first toddling steps towards his outstretched arms. In Nico's mind, she would always remember her father as a giant of a man. Standing at 6'4, he was larger than life and robust in both height and personality. As a family man, he was gregarious and generous by nature and loved by everyone. As Boss of the Torelli family, he could be ruthlessly cold. Feared by many, the pragmatic Don would not hesitate to slit anyone who ever crossed him from balls to throat.

Now, recalling the last time she had visited her father, Nico wiped several errant tears from her eyes. The cancer had dealt a serious blow to his overall health as it was. The shiv attack and his prolonged recovery had left him even more frail and unable to bounce back from his chemo treatments. He was dying right before her very eyes and Nico had resolved to make the one responsible for his deteriorating health pay the price with his own life.

Realizing that dwelling on past and present difficulties would only serve to sabotage the combined effect of the bath and wine, Nico dismissed the troubling thoughts. Allowing her mind to drift free and unfettered as her eyes gradually grew heavy, she had just decided to let herself doze for a while in the hot and bubbly water when a loud chiming suddenly echoed in the room. Groaning, Nico cracked one eye open and looked at the intercom on the wall above her head. The Hilton's penthouse suite offered much in the way of comfortable accommodations and luxury, which was why she always stayed there. The one thing they did not offer, however, was someone to answer the door for her.

"Who can it be?" Nico moaned with irritation as she had already eaten dinner.

With a wet hand, she pressed the intercom's "talk" button. "Yes, who is it?" she queried as she waited for a response.

"_Open the door, Tiny," a gravelly voice demanded._

"Well, shit," she murmured as she felt her naked and wet flesh break out into goosebumps, including her breasts—that is, if you could count her nipples hardening as goosebumps. "Seems as if someone picked up on the hint I dropped."

Pressing down on the "talk" button once again, Nico replied, "Hold onto your boxers, killer. I'll be there in a minute."

"_Can't do that," he replied (and she could just hear the smirk on his sexy face), "I'm not wearing any."_

Nico snorted with laughter before clicking off. Turning off the tub's whirlpool, she stood up as water streamed from her body. Grabbing a plush towel, Nico exited into her bedroom as she hurriedly dried herself off while simultaneously looking for her robe.

"I guess I won't be watching 'Little Fockers' on pay-per-view after all," she quipped as slipped on a long black silk robe and headed for the door.

_Yay, me!_

* * *

**A/N****: I want to thank everyone for all the reviews and adds I received for the last chapter. The feedback is very much appreciated, so please keep the reviews coming. I'm interested in hearing your thoughts on what you think the deal is with "Tiny".**

**Hugs, Harlee.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

**A/N: Hi everyone. I'm so sorry that for the past three weeks I have once again fallen off the radar. Not only have I been battling a severe case of writer's block, but with September sneaking up on me, I was in the midst of getting my kids ready for the new school year. With the new (and final) season of Sons of Anarchy scheduled to begin today, however, I woke up pumped and ready to put this latest chapter out there.**

**First, however, I want to give thanks in the form of a shout out to everyone that has submitted a review, old friends as well as several new ones. Your thoughts and kind words are very much appreciated, so a big, warm thanks to Alistensrude, amanda2579, Bella Ami, blaahblaahblaah, chasing yesterday always, Cherry Darling1177, Cupcake81, DeidreLaelia, giannakylie, Grassroller, Happyforhappy, HarryPotterFreakie, HermioneandMarcus, HGRHfan35, Imafan21, JTellersOldLady, KupKakes09, Lady Ramona, LuvDavidLabrava, Micaela-Beth-Winchester, nighthawk1975, OhhKellyRose, Redkazi, Reshot readhead1985, rockinBallerina, sammiesealface, Silently Tearful, TellatrixForever, Venetiangrl92, wabi-sabi1090, Wumbuful, xxxRena, as well as to numerous reviewers who posted anonymously as "Guest"!**

**Again, I apologize for the delay but I'm back now, so onto the good stuff! I hope you guys have a fan, a bucket of ice or a pitcher of iced tea (preferably, the kind from Long Island) on hand as things might get a little steamy. Or on second thought, maybe y'all should just have all three on hand, just in case!**

**Cheers, Harlee!**

**P.S. Just in case you haven't caught my drift, t****his story is now rated "M." You've been warned!**

* * *

_**Stockton, CA – Wednesday, February 2, 2011**_

Snatching the turban she had fashioned to keep her hair dry in the tub off her head, Nico hurriedly shook out her long locks, combing her fingers through them as the penthouse suite's doorbell continued to peal merrily.

"Keep your pants on, killer. I'm coming," Nico muttered under her breath as she quickly examined her face in the mirror. It was almost eleven o'clock and she had long given up hope on the sexy outlaw showing up. "Two can play at that game. Now it's his turn to wait for me."

After artfully smudging eyeliner on the rim of her lower lids, Nico started applying a light coat of lip gloss. Ultimately deciding against it, she hastily blotted her lips with a tissue, tossing it and the tube of gloss into her open make up case sitting on the vanity before making her way to the suite's entranceway.

Nico had been pretty much convinced that she had been stood up again. After sneaking out on Happy the morning after their one night together, her invitation—by way of Jury—for another Indian Hills hook up had fallen on deaf ears. Confident of her performance that night, she hadn't taken the snub personally, writing it off instead to the fickleness of bikers who had women crawling all over them.

Although running into Happy once again in Charming had not been a coincidence, Nico had been pleasantly surprised that he had seemed keen on a reunion of sorts. Had Dominic not interrupted their verbal foreplay with a family crisis, her little brother might have found himself reluctantly spending the night among outlaw bikers. Determined not to let another opportunity to vigorously sin with SAMCRO's SAA slip through her fingers once again, at the end of her meeting with Jax Teller earlier, Nico had made it a point of casually dropping the name of the Stockton hotel she was staying in.

And after keeping her waiting for hours, here was Happy at her door, impatiently leaning on the buzzer!

Coming to a stop at the door, Nico smoothed the robe over her hips. Looking down, she cursed to herself as she saw her small bare feet, their coral-tipped nails winking up at her. In her haste, she had forgotten to jump into her Louboutin heels before rushing out of the bedroom, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Unlocking the door, Nico pulled it open and propped herself up against the doorframe as she gave Happy the eye.

"You planning on keeping my ass out here all night, Tiny?" he asked gruffly.

"Now, why would I do that when you would be of more use to me in here?" Nico asked with faux coyness before opening the door wide. "Please do come in," she invited as she made a dramatic and sweeping gesture with her Kimono-sleeved arm. Closing the door behind her, Nico leaned against it, curiously watching as Happy took in his surroundings with a raised eyebrow.

The penthouse suite boasted a sitting area, dining room, an outdoor stone terrace, and three luxurious bedrooms, each with its own en suite bathroom. The ornate foyer led out into an expansive living room filled with white leather couches, strategically placed around the room so that the Stockton skyline could be enjoyed from every angle through the floor to ceiling windows.

"Fancy digs," Happy said as he turned around.

"I like nice things," Nico replied as she confidently strode towards him.

"Then what the hell am I doing here?" Happy asked, his voice a low sexy growl.

Nico watched as he approached her like a majestic jungle cat about to pounce on its prey and moistened her suddenly dry lips. "I like naughty things too," she purred. "I was starting to wonder, however, if maybe I had been a little too subtle with my invitation, it took you long enough to show up." She petulantly cocked her head up at him, forcing Happy to tighten every muscle in his face to keep from smiling.

_If she wasn't such a horny little bitch, she'd be downright pissed at me_.

"I was busy."

"So I gathered," Nico muttered as Happy stepped right into her personal space.

Caught in the middle of the war between her prideful irritation and her tingling lady bits, Nico figured some comeuppance might be in order. Trailing her hand up his chest, she noted the burning in Happy's eyes as he held his breath. Since he hadn't so much as offered an apology for his tardiness, Nico reasoned with herself that he must not have a problem with being kept waiting for what she knew they both wanted. Turning on her toes, Nico headed over to the long cabinet which housed a mini-bar full of snacks and liquor.

"Wanna drink?" she offered as she reached down to open a small cabinet door to retrieve a glass.

With the deep pile of thick wall-to-wall gray carpet, Nico barely registered hearing the heavy footfalls of her visitor. She cut loose with a sudden squeal of surprise as large firm hands gripped her waist and spun her around.

"Shit, Hap! You nearly scared the crap out of me," she sputtered as she abruptly found herself hoisted on top of the bar's counter.

"I didn't come here for a drink, Tiny," he growled. "I came to fuck." Untying and pulling loose the silky belt that held her robe closed, Happy flung it over his shoulder as Nico's wide eyes watched it flutter onto the floor. The now-untethered robe parted to reveal her naked and beautiful body.

* * *

Caught off guard by the sight of Tiny in a black silk robe that caressed every sinful curve of her body, Happy's dick had hardened into granite the second she had opened the door. Actually, the moment the mafia diva had deliberately dropped the Intel regarding her whereabouts, Happy's plans for spending the night fucking the shit out of her had quickly fallen into place as his dick stood at attention and hollered, "Hell's yeah!"

Almost salivating at the memory of her awesomely tight and deliciously wet pussy, Happy had bristled at getting held back by Jax for another meeting after Juice had pulled together some information. In hindsight—and in spite of how annoyed he had been—having Jax think out loud as he and Opie listened had worked to his advantage. Not only had it kept him from looking overly eager, but judging from the spark in her eyes, being kept waiting had lit a fire in Tiny's belly. A complacent and eager-to-please croweater was always a good thing, but Happy was starting to see the attraction of a bitch that made a man work for it.

In addition to having Nico wait on his arrival, the plan had been to spend some time mining her for information. As the Sergeant-At-Arms of his Club, Happy was fiercely territorial when it came to someone rolling up on their turf with an offer too good to be true. While he had an extremely well-developed skill set when it came to identifying and eliminating outside threats, and while he was mostly convinced that Nico Torelli's interest in the Club was legit, it wouldn't hurt for him to get a few more salient facts about her plans before they got down to the business end of a really good and angry fuck.

However, in spite of having the Club's best interest at the forefront of his mind, his lizard brain had taken over, letting his dick do the talking before his mouth could get a word in edgewise. Now as he loomed over Nico, Happy grinned fiercely as she looked up at him with deep blue eyes already dilated with desire.

_Small talk can fuckin' wait 'til the morning. We have some lost time to make up for,_ he thought as he crushed his mouth down on hers in a bruising kiss. His rough hands sliding over her smooth body, Happy impatiently shoved the robe off her shoulders, forming a pool of black silk around her on the mini-bar. Quickly unzipping his pants, Happy pulled out his hard cock, giving it a few rough strokes as he realized with only slight annoyance that he had forgotten to grab some condoms before leaving the Clubhouse.

_Too fucking late now_, he thought.

* * *

Any thoughts Nico had of letting Happy cool his heels before pouncing on his ass evaporated the moment he had lifted her up onto the bar. Looking into his glittering black eyes, Nico felt molten heat immediately flare up in her core, realizing with shock that she was already wet for him.

_And it's a good thing too_, Nico reasoned as it appeared that Happy was in something of a hurry as he hooked her knees over his forearms and pulled her towards the edge of the bar. As her robe finally slid into a heap on the floor, she couldn't stop the breathy moan that escaped her as she felt his engorged tip at her moist entrance.

Holding onto his granite hard biceps for balance, Nico braced for impact and was not disappointed as Happy pushed into her with one deliciously violent stroke. They groaned in unison as her walls clenched tight around the magnificent intrusion. Bringing his hands to her hips for leverage, Happy leaned into her and enveloped her mouth with his as he tried to set a rhythmic pace. She was too tight, however, and after several minutes of hard and fast fucking, Happy had to slow it down some or risk nutting too soon like some love struck 14-year old.

"Oh my God!" Nico was breathing heavy. "You feel so fucking good, Hap," she whispered.

It was incredible, feeling him stuffing her to capacity once again, and she knew she was already close. Desperate for release but needing the friction to get her there, Nico shifted her hips. She cried out, letting her head fall back, her clit coming into direct contact with Happy's pubic bone as he continued pumping into her. Looking down between them, Happy growled at the sight of Nico's glistening pink pussy and his rigid cock covered in her sweet-smelling juices and any remnant of self-control he had left disappeared. Holding her hips firm and not letting her move, he started viciously pounding into her.

"Oh fuck!" Nico grabbed Happy by the back of his head as he leaned into her to tug and suck on one of her nipples and then the other before bringing his mouth back to hers.

They were fucking hard—the whaap, whaap, whaap of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out Happy's expletive-filled groans and Nico's soft whimpering. His balls tightened and, knowing that he was going to come soon, Happy reached between them and rubbed her clit with his thumb. With her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head, Happy felt her clench around him as she came at the top of her lungs.

"Fuckin' hell, Tiny!" Happy buried his face in her neck, the pull of her tight pussy as she convulsed underneath him making his legs feel like jelly. Nico wrapped her arms around Happy's neck corded by the strain as he continued pumping into her. Groaning incoherently, Happy bit into her shoulder to keep himself from crying out as he came inside her.

Except for the sound of the pair trying to catch their breaths, the room was silent as they held each other for a moment longer. Finally pulling away, Happy readjusted himself into his pants as Nico awkwardly tried to straighten up on the bar, not trusting that her legs could support her body weight if she attempted to stand up.

Running both hands over his face to wipe away the perspiration, Happy stole a glance at Nico. He thought she was beautiful before, but in the afterglow, mere moments after coming undone, she was something else. Her wide dark blue eyes were shiny and her lips were pillowy and swollen from his brutal kisses. Even though her legs were now closed, he could see the redness he had caused her inner thighs as he pounded mercilessly into her. She was too fair-skinned and delicate—or he was just that rough—as he could already see his handprints developing into bruises on her hips where he had held her down.

"Shit, Hap," Nico managed to whisper hoarsely as she tried to get her hair back into some semblance of order. "Shit," she moaned again.

Using his index finger to tip her face up to meet his, Happy grinned. She looked thoroughly and awesomely fucked and she was even more gorgeous because of it. "It's been a while since you've been taken for a ride like that, huh, Tiny?"

_Try never, or at least not before I met you_, she thought but was completely unwilling to admit.

"What makes you think you were all that, outlaw?" Nico replied cheekily instead as Happy fixed a stern eye on her.

"What was that? I can't hear," Happy suddenly teased. "My ears are still ringin' from all that screaming you were doin'."

Nico rolled her eyes. "All right," she groused. "Don't go getting all full of yourself now. So maybe it's been a minute . . . or two." She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

_More like 16 long years of battery-powered only orgasms_, she thought grimly. _Who knew what the fuck I was missing_?

"Maybe you were a bit too much for your ex," Happy contemplated out loud even though he hadn't meant to. _God knows I almost blew my load before I wanted to_. "A pussy like yours needs a real man taking care of it."

"Oh, and you're that man?" Nico eyed him speculatively.

With feline grace, Happy leaned into her, his teeth grabbing and nipping her lobe before growling into her ear, "Whose dick did you drench as you came harder than any bitch I've ever had before?"

He was so close that Happy could hear Nico swallow the lump in her throat. Pulling back, he noted the strange look of longing on her pretty face even though her eyes where closed.

"I'm guessing your ex was real good at leaving you feeling deprived and unsatisfied. That would sure explain why you're so good at your job as a lawyer. Were you overcompensating for what was missing from your sex life, Tiny?" Happy whispered and grinned as Nico's eyes flew open and flashed dangerously at him.

"You don't know me like that," Nico stated emphatically.

"I know all I need to know about you by the way you fuck," Happy countered.

Nico chuckled derisively. "Really? And what's that?"

So intently focused on his face, Nico was caught off guard as Happy, quick as a snake, slipped his arm around her slim waist and swept her off the bar and into his arms. "That you're in dire need of making up for lost time," he replied before taking her mouth in a deep, wet kiss that Nico felt all the way down to the tips of her painted toes.

Breaking away from her lips, Happy stooped down by the silken belt of her robe. "Pick it up, Tiny," he commanded, knowing it would come in handy for what he had in store for her. Quickly doing as she was told, Nico squealed as Happy headed in the direction of one of the bedrooms.

As great a fuck as Nico Torelli already was, Happy figured it was time for somebody to break her in and school her on what a real man is like in the bedroom.

_And I'm just the dirty biker to do it too_.

* * *

It was the persistent tinkling of chimes that finally pulled Happy out of a deep, exhausted sleep.

Groaning, he rolled over onto his side, enjoying the extreme comfort that the king size bed underneath offered. In search of the soft and supple curves he had spent all night re-familiarizing himself with, Happy stretched a muscled arm over the wrinkled mass of bed sheets next to him and came up empty. It took nearly half a minute for the sleep-deprived receptors in his brain to snap and crackle to life, but when they did, it finally dawned on him that he was the bed's lone occupant.

"Wh—what," Happy said groggily as the sound of tinkling chimes started once again. "Shit!" he exclaimed, coming suddenly awake. "Tiny! Move your ass and get the damn door!" he shouted raising his head off the pillow.

Only silence greeted him in return.

"What the fuck?" he said as he rolled into a sitting position and ran his hand over the slightly prickly fuzz of new growth on his shaven dome. "Hold the fuck on!" he hollered at the chimes and, flipping off the bed sheets from around his naked body, stood up and headed towards the open bedroom door. Scooping up his discarded jeans that lay stretched over the back of a chair, he made his way through the hallway. Passing the empty sitting room and then the empty formal dining area, the facts of his present situation started chasing away the fog clouding his brain.

_I'm fuckin' alone in this shit, ain't I_? he thought grimly as he shrugged into first one leg of his jeans and then the other.

Finally approaching the door of the suite, Happy flipped the lock, reached for the doorknob and threw the door open.

"What the fuck do you want?" he growled at the slender young man dressed in a white uniform with gleaming gold buttons and pristine gloves. He was standing in front of an ornate cart that was filled with covered dishes, the aroma of the food they concealed causing Happy's stomach to rumble in hungry anticipation.

"He—Hello, Mr. Lowman," the young porter stuttered. Confronted by Happy's fierce stare and colorfully tattooed chest and arms, he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously up and down. "I have breakfast for you."

For a moment, Happy just stared at the servant. "I didn't order any fuckin' breakfast."

"Uh, yes, sir. I mean, no sir, but Ms. Torelli did. Shall I bring it in, sir?"

"Yeah, a'ight. And stop sir'ing me to death, will ya?" he retorted.

Standing to the side, Happy watched as the boy—barely old enough to grow more than just a few sparse whiskers above his upper lip—almost tripped over his own feet as he stepped into the room. Wheeling the cart in behind him, the porter managed to make it over to the dining area while warily stealing glances at Happy over his shoulder. Stopping at the table with two chairs set in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Stockton, he turned to face the outlaw and offered him a check presenter and a pen.

Making no move to accept it, Happy just stared menacingly at the young man.

"Uh, sir—I mean, Mr. Lowman, I just need you to sign this," the server said, managing a slight nod at the billfold in his outstretched hand.

"I ain't paying for this shit," came Happy's terse reply.

"Oh no, sir—I mean, Mr. Lowman. I just need your signature to acknowledge receipt of your room service," the boy stammered as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. "Everything has been paid for in advance by Ms. Torelli, including a very generous tip."

"Good 'cause I wasn't planning on tipping."

"Of course not, sir."

Snatching the pen and the black leather folder from the boy, Happy flipped it open and signed his name with a flourish, although not before noting the three-digit fee for the meal.

"Are you people shitting me? Over a hundred bucks for some fuckin' eggs and toast?"

The porter hastily took the billfold from Happy. "It seems pricey, I know, but I just work here." Quickly heading for the door, the young man stopped abruptly and reluctantly turned back. "I almost forgot." Walking over to Happy, he pulled an envelope from the breast pocket of his uniform and held it out to the biker. "Ms. Torelli asked that I deliver this to you as well. Have a nice day, sir," he said before rushing to the door and closing it behind him.

Flipping the envelope over in his hands and seeing his full name scrawled on the front somehow didn't surprise him much as Tiny was proving quite adept at figuring shit out on her own. Ripping it open, Happy pulled out a single folded sheet of heavy stock creamy white paper. Her handwriting, a flowing script, was as bold as she was.

_**Good morning, killer.**_

_**Sorry I had to bounce, but I had to head back to Reno bright and early. I took the liberty of ordering breakfast for you as I am sure that a man with an appetite for sex like you needs to fuel up in the morning. I ordered a bit of everything from the menu, but if you prefer something in particular, just give room service a call. The room's paid for, so enjoy. I highly recommend giving the whirlpool a try! **_

_**Ciao, Nico**_

"Fuck! Tiny Bitch is too good at this hit-and-run shit," Happy muttered to himself as he tossed the letter and envelope on top of the table, eyeing them with irritation.

This was the second time she had left him high and dry and wanting just a little bit more. Knowing that he would normally be grateful waking up alone after fucking some bitch all night long, the fact that he felt like a jilted lover pissed him off. Even more than Tiny not being around to blow him one more time before he hit the road. Happy growled, also annoyed with himself for not grilling Nico when he had the chance about her seemingly genuine and generous offer to help the Club.

Finally turning his attention to the cart, one after the other Happy lifted the covers off of the various dishes to reveal sunny side up eggs, waffles, crepes, muffins, sausage, bacon and ham, fresh fruit, and various other sundries, pastries, freshly-squeezed orange juice and coffee.

Sitting down, Happy poured himself a cup of black coffee from the ornate silver carafe before scooping up the sunny side eggs, and some bacon and sausage and sat down. Unfolding the _Stockton News _that had been tucked into the side of the cart, he wryly shook his head as he opened the paper.

"I'll give her this much. Tiny's got class," he said aloud as he sipped his coffee before taking a large bite of the eggs. "But this is the last time she's gonna get away with this shit. I fuckin' guarantee it."

* * *

**A/N: ****Dirty Love, No Romance**** is the title of a song that was featured on Season 4 of SOA. It pretty much sums up the current situation between Happy Lowman and Nico Torelli, two people who are extremely attracted to one another but at the moment neither of them are thinking anything in terms of a 'relationship.' Hopefully, that will change as the story develops.**

**Starting this story in this way is a little bit of a departure for me, with this couple (and I use that term loosely) getting right to the nitty gritty, but as a biker outlaw Happy has never had any time for women outside of those in his own family—Amelia, Ceci and Marlowe. **

**On the other hand, Nico—after being in a stale marriage for sixteen years—has just been liberated. She's not at all interested in finding love—or at least that's what she believes. Right now, she enjoying the perks of being single for the first time in her life.**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter as Nico's family situation comes to a head and Happy is given the chance to step into the role that earned him his nickname—the Tacoma Killer. As always, reviews are love, so please send me some!**

**Hugs, Harlee.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

* * *

_**Reno, Nevada - Saturday, February 12, 2011**_

The Torelli Compound sat on an impressive ten acres of prime real estate located within five miles of Reno's city limits. The sprawling eight-bedroom, eleven-and-a-half bath Art Deco mansion boasted tennis and basketball courts, a lovely English-inspired walking garden, an Olympic-sized infinity pool with a two-bedroom pool house, and a ten car garage. To many in Reno's high society, it was a vulgar display of wealth. Having lived their entire lives there, to Nico Torelli and her three siblings it was simply home.

Wrapped in a black and grey chinchilla stole that was a gift from her father after her divorce, Nico stood on the white stone terrace overlooking her family estate. Although it was a chillier than usual desert night, Nico had no intention of going inside. Instead, from her position outside the French doors leading into the ballroom, she huddled underneath her fur and watched the evening's festivities with a cynical eye.

Acting as her mother's financial adviser while her father was in prison, Nico had set a strict budget for the extravagant party Rosanna Torelli had been planning for months to celebrate her granddaughter Christina's confirmation. Although not one to spare any expense herself when it came to her family, Nico was not at all pleased by the fact that her mother had blown at least half of her allotted budget on flowers alone. With Nico refusing to give her carte blanche for party expenses, Rosanna had gone over her head and directly to her husband Gianni, the presently incarcerated "CEO" of the Torelli family.

In spite of the fact that it had been a direct order from her father to keep her mother's spending in check, Nico knew it was a battle she was destined to lose. Even after 43 years of wedded bliss, there was nothing in the world Gianni Torelli would deny his beloved wife. Not surprisingly, when it was all said and done, Rosanna had spent six figures on a 12-year's rite of passage, almost as much as had been spent on each of the Torelli daughters' weddings.

_If only Papa was here to see it all_, Nico smiled to herself as she took in the happy antics of her extended family and business associates in the opulent ballroom. Gianni would probably bitch and moan about the expense for all of thirty seconds. Then he'd give his wife a frisky slap on the ass before setting off to enjoy being the life of the party.

Leaning against the stone balustrade, Nico watched the jacketed wait staff dancing in, out and around the crowd of partiers deftly carrying trays laden with hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, as well as flutes of imported Prosecco spumante and frozen Bellinis. A five-piece jazz ensemble was playing on a raised platform as several guests took to the dance floor before the cocktail hour drew to a close and dinner was served.

Smiling, Nico noted her niece Christina, still wearing her red and white confirmation robe over her formal dress and surrounded by her younger cousins. The center of attention, Christina happily flitted from one guest to another as they handed her envelopes stuffed with cash which she tucked into the ever-expanding white silk satchel hanging from her dainty wrist.

Nico smirked as her niece approached the Archbishop of Reno and watched as the Most Reverend Leonardo Francis Albertini gingerly patted her on the head. It must have taken every ounce of restraint in the holy man's possession not to wipe his hand in disgust after Christina walked away as he made it no secret that he had very little tolerance for children. Doing so, however, would have been a slap in the face of the Reno Archdiocese's most fervent and generous patron, Rosanna Torelli.

Because nothing short of spectacular would do for her granddaughter's big day, Rosanna had insisted that the Archbishop of the Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral himself be the one to officiate. With aspirations of being elected to the College of Cardinals one day, His Excellency had no choice but to abide by Mrs. Torelli's "request" or risk losing her support. Nico snorted derisively at the lengths her mother would go to in seeking penance for the misdeeds perpetuated by her family. In addition to donating generously to the Church, Rosanna, along with her two older daughters, served as Chair of several faith-based charities and community outreach programs, apparently all in the hopes of saving her loved ones from the fiery pits of Hell.

The fact that the Torelli matriarch believed she had the power and authority to negotiate with and essentially bribe God was just one of the many reasons Nico had chosen to brave the 45 degree weather. As much as she loved her mother, there was just no getting around the fact that they got along the best when they kept their distance from each other. Knowing what a disappointment she was to her mother, Nico was sure that Rosanna hadn't noticed her absence by her side as she greeted her 200-plus guests. As a matter of fact, with her two eldest daughters anchored to her side, Rosanna was busy being an engaging hostess as she entertained a local city councilman.

In her early-60's—and looking as young as her daughters—Rosanna's soft copper hair was swept into an intricate updo. Wearing a champagne-colored Vera Wang gown that clung to her hour-glass figure and matching six-inch Louboutins heels, she literally sparkled from head to toe. Sporting at least a million dollars in diamonds, she had the precious gems woven into her hair as well as dripping from her ears, throat, and wrists. Nico shook her head, realizing that the concept of "less is more" was obviously alien to her mother.

"Anyone mugging Ma tonight would be set for life," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't let the high-class duds fool ya. Rosie would gut them like a fuckin' fish first," a voice from below replied. Looking off to her right, Nico watched as her uncle made his way up the stone steps to her side.

Giacomo "Jimmy" Cacuzza was dressed quite handsomely in a three-piece dark gray suit. Bringing the cigar he was holding to his mouth, several gold rings glittered on his fingers in the moonlight. This was a much more formal look for Jimmy, who preferred tooling around town doing business in his beloved leather jacket, plain white button down shirt, black slacks and custom-made Italian leather boots. Given the opportunity, he would have worn the suit to Church before quickly changing into his standard attire. With Rosanna's husband sick and in lock-up, however, Jimmy was clearly making a real effort to please his sister by letting her reign over her family, even if it included letting her bully him into donning a monkey suit for the evening.

"Knowing Ma, she probably has a diamond encrusted stiletto tucked into her cleavage too." Nico laughed gaily as her uncle pressed a kiss on each of her cheeks. "Just don't let her hear you call her 'Rosie' or she'll gut you too,"

Pulling away, Jimmy waved away thoughts of his overbearing but much loved sister. "And what's up with you, cara mia? You should be inside. It's cold enough to catch death out here," Jimmy admonished.

"I have a lot on my mind, Zio. I needed to get away from the noise and clear my head for a bit."

"I get that," he responded with a bob of his head.

Nico eyed him carefully. "Everything set?"

"All systems are a go," Jimmy replied soberly. "Gianni's poker room is all set for the vote and the Champagne's on ice. With all the underbosses and their capos on board, if all goes well, Rocco will be voted in as the new Boss. I'll make the announcement to the entire family before dessert." Grabbing her hand, Jimmy gently squeezed it. "Are _you_ ready?"

"More than ready," she said ruefully. "I just want this over with."

"And it will be, thanks to you," Jimmy replied. "You pulled through with an excellent strategy, kid."

"Which I will get no credit for unless, of course, it ends up in the shitter," Nico replied with distaste. "What if Ma comes looking for me—"

"Don't you worry about Rosie. I'll keep my sister so distracted she won't know what the fuck is going on," Jimmy assured her.

About to reply with an eye roll just to emphasize how nearly impossible that might prove to be, Nico's eyes brightened as a slender and gawky teenage boy came into view through the glass doors. To the great amusement of his cousins, he was balancing two trays of appetizers he had "liberated" from one of the servers and, to a round of cheers from his fan club, dropped the food onto one of the tables with great flourish. She could almost hear him exclaim "Voilà!"

"Tonio's getting big, huh? I bet you have to look up when talkin' to him now, even in those heels," Jimmy said jovially.

Nico sighed wistfully, a faint smile on her lips. Drawing closer to the doors, she watched as her son shoved three pieces of puff pastry into his mouth, his blue eyes sparkling merrily as his female cousins egged him on. "As much as I miss him and am glad he's here, I wish I hadn't let Ma nag me into pulling him out of boarding school for this," she said quietly, sighing as her uncle wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't beat yourself up 'cause your mother's like a dog with a fuckin' bone. She always gets her way, you know this, but I'm glad you gave in without much of a fight. It's hard enough for Rosie with Gianni on the inside. It wouldn't do for her to be without her favorite grandson at a time like this," Jimmy nodded towards the family and Nico lifted her head to focus on her son. And his father.

Nico watched as Rocco Agnello wrapped his arms around his son's slender shoulders. Giving him a seemingly never-ending hug, Rocco pulled away to ruffle Tonio's dark hair with his large hands before placing a kiss on his forehead.

_Rocco is looking good tonight_, Nico admitted to herself as she took in his athletic build draped in a tailored dark pinstripe Armani suit and bold red tie. With his jet black hair perfectly styled above expertly shaped dark brows and blue eyes, Rocco's five o'clock shadow only served to further enhance his movie-star good looks. Flanked by two of his soldiers—completely inappropriate at a family affair, by the way—he looked quite at ease as he posed with their son for a picture taken by the photographer hired to memorialize the occasion. Rocco's six-foot frame was slim and powerful and, at 45, he was at the pinnacle of health and vitality.

Apparently on the same wavelength, Jimmy mirrored her thoughts. "He looks good, the bastard. I guess it's a good thing that Tonio's here. Gives him a chance to see his father before—" he paused, letting his silence fill in the blanks.

"_Before_ he returns to boarding school?" Nico quipped with a raised eyebrow.

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "He made his bed, Nico."

Nico nodded solemnly in agreement.

With Dominic now joining his nephew and the man he considered a close friend, Nico straightened her shoulders as the two men exchanged warm greetings. Her brother and ex-husband with her son standing in between them made a handsome picture, but Nico forced herself to look away. There was no room for nostalgia.

_Not tonight_.

"I guess it's time I head back inside," she smiled briefly but Jimmy noted that it wasn't reflected in her eyes. "You know what they say, Zio. A mother's work is never done."

* * *

Sitting on one of the plush sofas in the living room of the pool house, Rocco Agnello couldn't believe the night he was having.

_And to think I was tempted to blow off coming tonight_.

Since finalizing his divorce from Nico Torelli, the last place Rocco wanted to spend any significant amount of time at was in his former in-laws' home, especially not for a family function. It was knowing that his son had flown in from his European boarding school for the occasion, combined with the opportunity to rub his position as acting Boss in the faces his brothers-in-laws that had Rocco pulling his new silver 2011 Ferrari FF onto the compound dressed in his best attire.

Once Gianni "Brooklyn Johnny T" Torelli started doing time over a year ago, Rocco had been elevated to acting head of the Syndicate with Gianni's blessing. Although the sudden transition of power had taken him by surprise, taking over that position had been on his personal agenda since relocating to Reno from the East Coast nearly 18 years ago. That plan had nearly been derailed by the beautiful woman he was now waiting on. A sensual smile formed on his lips as Rocco allowed his mind's eye to glide over the mental picture of his ex-wife's luscious body.

Nicoletta Antonia Torelli had not been what he had been expecting when he first met her. Once he had made the move out West from New York City, it had taken Rocco two long years to climb his way from associate to soldier after joining the Syndicate. During that time, although Rocco had at one time been assigned as a bodyguard for Gianni, he had not been able to learn much about the Boss's youngest daughter.

The most Rocco had heard about the eighteen year old Nico was that she didn't fit the typical "mafia princess" profile. To his way of thinking, that translated to mean that she probably looked like the back end of a horse. Still, Rocco had used what opportunities he had available to catch the eye of Gianni and his wife. Coming from the same Italian neighborhood in Queens as Rosanna Torelli, Rocco had worked his charm on Nico's mother who had quickly gone to work on setting up situations where her youngest daughter would be present.

Never in need of matchmakers before, Rocco had figured that sweeping the young Nicoletta off her feet would insure him a more secure position within her father's organization, something that two other Torelli soldiers had managed successfully when they married into Gianni's family.

That agenda, however, immediately took a back burner when Rocco had finally been introduced to Nico. Surprised by how truly beautiful she was, Rocco had been completely smitten with Gianni's young but self-assured daughter at first sight. Unfortunately for Rocco, the feeling was evidently not mutual because, even though they soon started dating, Nico had made it clear that she wasn't interested in anything serious between them as she started her junior year in college. That should have been the first red flag that he wasn't dealing with a typically subservient woman, the kind he had been accustomed to and which made excellent mob wives.

Luckily, however, Rosanna had been supportive of his courtship of her "difficult" daughter and encouraged Rocco in his pursuit of a relationship with Nico. Eventually, in what Nico had considered a betrayal of his promise to let her finish school before the subject of marriage became an issue, Gianni gave Rocco his consent to propose during her senior year.

After working hard academically her entire life and entering the University of Nevada at the early age of 16, her educational achievement had been eclipsed—barely recognized, according to Nico—as she and Rocco were married in a lavish wedding just days after her college graduation shortly before her twentieth birthday. Even then, Nico had only agreed to marry him as long as he supported her desire to continue with her education by going to law school. Although he had publicly agreed, the truth was that both Rocco and Rosanna believed that Nico's only career choice should be raising children and being a good Italian housewife.

With Gianni in full support of his favorite daughter, however, Rocco had no choice but to concede if he had any hope of achieving his end goal. So after their wedding, the new Mr. and Mrs. Agnello settled into the home that Gianni had bought for them as a wedding present.

In spite of how things turned out for them, Rocco had to admit that Nico had done an incredible job in juggling her desire to become an attorney while meeting her obligations as his wife. He also had to admit that having a beautiful, smart and engaging woman by his side had helped him steadily climb the Syndicate ladder of success. With his wife's support, Rocco went from soldier to capo, eventually surpassing his brothers-in-law by becoming an Under Boss several years ago.

Nico had given birth to their son within their first year of marriage, but by the time Tonio was seven, whatever semblance of a happy marriage they had, had started to disintegrate. Of course, during their many fights, Rocco would blame Nico's career obsession for their failed marriage when in reality he knew he was the one to blame. Although Nico never ran to her father for a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, Rocco knew she had every reason to. Not only did Nico have full knowledge of his constant cheating, but she was well aware of his drug and gambling addictions as well.

Her massive Torelli pride was the only logical reason Rocco could see as to why Nico never ratted him out to Gianni or her Uncle Jimmy. That and her need to please her mother, a woman that would never be pleased no matter what Nico did. In spite of being too coked up half the time to give a shit about his wife losing interest in keeping up appearances, Rocco believed he had established himself well enough within the Syndicate that becoming the next Don was inevitable.

Although Nico was fond of reminding him that Dominic was next in line to take over for her father, she had no clue that Rocco had been secretly financing her brother's obsession with racing, keeping him occupied and out of the Torelli family business. Rocco had covered all his bases and had no reason not to believe that permanently taking over the Syndicate was only a matter of time.

That is, until Nico decided to file for divorce.

Having done everything he could to convince Nico what a mistake that would be, Rocco had finally caved when she threatened to file anyway, this time including his infidelity and drug addiction in her complaint. Knowing that Nico was the apple of her father's eye, having Gianni aware of his marital misdeeds would not bode well for his own career aspirations. Even worse, if Gianni was half the gangster he had been in his youth, it was unlikely that a divorce would be necessary. Rocco had no doubt that his father-in-law would make arrangements for his daughter to end up a widow instead.

Fortunately, divorcing Gianni's little princess had not jeopardized his place in the Syndicate as Acting Boss. Now, in the wake of the attempt on Gianni's life in prison, the under bosses saw the need for action in order not to appear weak in the eyes of their enemies and had unanimously voted Rocco in as Boss of the Torelli Empire.

_And it seems as if someone has regrets about severing ties prematurely with the power base of this family_, Rocco thought smugly and sat back to reexamine what the fuck had just happened between him and Nico as he patiently waited for her to join him in the pool house.

* * *

_In the midst of receiving congratulatory back slaps and double-cheek kisses as a crowd pressed around him, Rocco spotted Nico waiting patiently on the periphery._

_Rocco figured—and certainly had hoped after their divorce—that Nico would eventually lose her looks somewhere down the line. Looking at her now, it was clear that time wasn't tonight. As a matter of fact, she was looking particularly gorgeous in a strapless royal blue dress that molded over her generous curves, her wavy dark hair tumbling down her back in fat curls. He smirked as he noted her 5" heels, realizing that she would forever feel inadequate because of her diminutive height._

_Finally, after a break in the crowd, she had sauntered over to him. Thinking that she would offer him a half-hearted congratulations, Rocco was surprised when Nico reached up and placed a gentle kiss on each of his cheeks. _

"_Congratulations," Nico murmured, her lips curved into a wry smile. "Despite how things worked out for us, I'm happy for you, Rocco. Papa has a lot of faith in you and it's well-deserved. You are definitely the right man for the job. You've earned it," she said graciously. _

_Surprised, Rocco smiled down at her. "Thank you, bella mia," he said quietly. "Coming from you, that means a lot." _

"_I know things haven't exactly been easy for us over the years and a lot of that had to do with me feeling protective of Dom and his place in the Syndicate. But believe it or not, I'm not the know-it-all I make myself out to be," she said with a chuckle and Rocco felt his breath catch in his throat._

_She really is fuckin' beautiful__, he thought as he watched her lick her bottom lip before continuing._

"_I was wrong about Dom. He's not ready to run the Syndicate and I don't think he ever will be. I see that now. After what happened to Papa, the family needs a strong leader and there's no doubt that you're that," Nico said, her eyes sparkling like sapphires with sincerity._

"_This has certainly turned into a night full of surprises," Rocco laughed quietly as he ran a hand over his strong chin. "Since you're being so candid with me, bella mia, I think it's time I let you know how much I appreciate how __you've stepped up in your father's absence. Not only have I been short on time and unable to handle a lot of the corporate shit, but we both know that I don't have the mind for it like you do. That situation involving the Casino, it was Jimmy who advised me to talk to you about it. We were able to clean up that pot of shit stew with the Nevada Gaming Commission with little fall out thanks to you. But is it really a surprise how well we work together in the boardroom? We sure never had a problem working well together in the bedroom, did we, baby?" he said suggestively, smiling as he saw a blush stain her cheeks pink._

"_No, we didn't," Nico __whispered as she leaned her body into him, placing a hand on his chest. Quite naturally, Rocco found his arm sliding around her slender waist anchoring her to his side. "Maybe we can work together again." _

_Seeing her eyes flashing seductively, Rocco felt his eyebrows reaching into his hairline. "What do you have in mind?"_

_In spite of her high heels, Nico still had to tip toe in order to whisper into his ear, "Meet me in the pool house in twenty and find out."_

_Nico pulled away from his embrace and Rocco watched as his ex-wife tossed her hair over her shoulders, gave him a saucy wink and walked off through the French doors, her ass swaying gently._

* * *

_It seems that in spite of the divorce, I still own that shit_, Rocco thought smugly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

It had only taken the brief walk to the pool house for Rocco to come to the conclusion that his ex-wife was having second thoughts about her decision to kick his ass to the curb. Nico was nothing if not pragmatic when it came to the business. Now that he had been backed by the Syndicate, maybe she was realizing that insisting on getting a divorce had been, in retrospect, premature. With him leading the family, it would only be a matter of time before their son would be groomed to succeed him. With her father currently in prison and Rocco taking over, Nico would automatically be the most highly-ranked female in the organization.

_That is, if she was still my wife_.

Rocco had to admit that in spite of being a woman, Nico was extremely intelligent and even though there would never be a place for her in the Syndicate itself, she could be useful to him in many ways. One way in particular he hadn't experienced in quite some time and in spite of all the bullshit between them, he couldn't deny that Nico Torelli was a great fuck. As much as he enjoyed being single again, making frequent trips to as many legal and illegal brothels as he could, Rocco couldn't deny that he still missed having that fine piece of ass warming his bed.

Hearing the sound of a door opening up, Rocco smiled as Nico came inside, her stole wrapped around her.

"Shit, it's cold out there," she shivered as she walked over to him. "I think the temperature has dropped at least another ten degrees."

"Then come over here and sit," he invited with a smile. "I'll warm you up." Rocco watched as she cocked her head at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she sauntered over.

"I don't know, Roc," Nico said with a raised eyebrow. "That's an awfully big couch. We might fall into some shit just for old time's sake."

"And what's wrong with that?" he said patting the soft white cushion next to him.

Nico tossed her stole on the opposite end of the couch, catching Rocco by surprise as she not only sat on the sofa next to him, but pressed herself snugly into his side. "Is this what you had in mind?" she purred.

"It's a start," he murmured as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Rocco watched as Nico lifted her downcast eyes to his. Struck by the soft expectation he saw in her blue orbs, he said gently, "What's all this about, bella mia?"

"I guess I'm feeling the need to confess," she admitted, biting her bottom lip.

"Confess what?"

Nico took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Seeing you taking Papa's place at the head table tonight and addressing the family as Don, it dawned on me just how things are going to change and made me realize that I want things to be different, not just for the family," she whispered as she bit her bottom lip, "but for us too."

_Shit, I still got this_, Rocco thought inwardly as he looked into her dark blue eyes that seemed to be imploring him.

"There's a lot of water under this bridge, Nico," Rocco started, his eyes drawn to her plump lips. "You think we can just pick up where we left off?"

"Better. We can start fresh," she whispered hopefully. Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Reaching up, Nico placed her soft lips on his.

Moaning softly, Rocco took advantage of her parted lips and slipped his tongue inside. He mirrored Nico's languid and gentle movements before taking control and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Leaving her breathless, Rocco pulled away, letting his lips trail across Nico's cheek, into the crook of her neck and down to the valley of her ample cleavage. He heard her moan, her fingers tangling in his hair as he laved the tops of her breasts with his tongue.

Feeling his dick harden, Rocco muttered, "Merda," before pulling away and taking in his ex-wife's rosy complexion. "You're fuckin' serious." He watched as she nodded her head.

"I know this must seem like it's coming out of nowhere, Roc, but I've been having second thoughts," she admitted quietly. "It could be a new start for all three of us—you, me, Tonio. When we first married, I was young and headstrong and while we enjoyed an active sex life, there really wasn't much else between us other than our son. We're both older and wiser now. Professionally, we're where we've been working so hard for so long to get. Maybe—," Nico sighed as she placed her hand on his chest. "Maybe we can make shit work between us now. We don't have to rush into anything, just take it slow and see where it goes. What do you think?"

Having given quite a lot of thought to how he could use Nico in his efforts to solidify his place as the head of the family had been one thing. His dick swelling in his pants was another—a surprising reminder that things had always been good between them sexually and the possibility of it being good again might be just too much to pass up.

"I think that sounds like a really good idea." He watched as she smiled.

"Then let's celebrate," Nico suggested. Reaching over to a panel that sat on the coffee table, she pressed a button on it. A moment later, Rocco looked up as the pool house's double doors covered with long panels of white curtains opened to reveal a server wheeling in a large cart. On top of the cart sat a sterling silver ice bucket with a bottle of Champagne and two long stem glasses.

Standing up, Nico held her hand out to Rocco who took it in his and let her lead him to the cart. Picking up a white linen cloth to drape over his forearm, the server poured two flutes of Dom Perignon, handing one first to Nico and then to Rocco before quietly vacating the room, leaving the door partially ajar.

"To you, Rocco," Nico started with a smile. "You've done a brilliant job taking care of business in my father's absence. Appointing you as permanent head of the family was the next logical step. With Dom dreaming of being the next Michael Andretti, Papa believed you would be the key to protecting his legacy. We all did," Nico said as she raised her glass. "But not anymore, bastardo infido," she spit out, her tone suddenly dripping venom.

As her words slowly registered, Rocco felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his upper torso, securing him in a half Nelson while the other hand shoved a white linen cloth into his mouth. The glass of champagne he was holding slipped out of his hand and landed on the dark plush carpet as Rocco struggled to shake off his attacker. Unable to cry out, Rocco fought to keep his eye lids open as the pressure on his carotid artery caused his vision to blur and dim. Cursing himself for dismissing his security detail in lieu of a hook-up with his seemingly eager ex-wife, it was only now dawning on him what a colossal error in judgment that had been.

_If Nico knows, I'm so fucked_, was Rocco's last thought before he lost consciousness and slid bonelessly to the floor.

Walking over, Nico nudged her ex-husband's leg with her foot and saw that he was completely unresponsive. "Tell me you didn't kill him," she said to the man dressed in a server's uniform before stooping down to dig through Rocco's pockets.

"Nah, just choked him out. He should be out for a good fifteen minutes. Gives me just enough time to hog-tie him," Happy's gravelly voice replied as he looked at the man lying prone on the floor before raising his dark eyes to focus on Nico's bent form. "For a minute, I was starting to wonder if this shit was still a go," he said somewhat irritably.

"Why would you think that?" Nico asked as she stood up, a set of car keys dangling from a well-manicured finger.

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe it was the massage your tongue was giving the bastard's throat that threw me off," Happy said gruffly.

"That was just a little window dressing, outlaw." Nico smiled as she noted his look of exasperation. "Roc's an experienced gangster who's accustomed to thinking at least ten moves ahead. The only way we were going to get him was by disrupting his thought process. What better way of accomplishing that than by draining the blood from his head down to his dick? Trust me, it wasn't for fun and there isn't enough of this shit in the world to wash the taste of him out of my mouth." She picked up her glass and drained it dry. "You want some? It's _really_ good," she offered playfully and bit the inside of her lip to stifle her laughter at the affronted look on Happy's face.

"I don't drink bubbly girlie shit."

"Your loss," Nico said coyly as she cocked her head at him and smiled. "I have to say, you don't look half bad in that get up. With some proper training, I'd bet you'd make an excellent sommelier," she said with a hint of snark.

"Bite me, Tiny. I don't even know what the fuck that is. 'Sides," Happy said, tugging at the tight collar that was pinching his neck. "I can't wait to get the fuck out of this shit."

"As much as I would love to help you do just that, I'll have to bite you later, killer," Nico teased, the tip of her pink tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip teasingly. "First, we have business to take care of."

Standing back, she watched as Happy's upper lip curled into what was unmistakably a growl before he moved the ice bucket onto a small table in the corner of the room. Handing Nico the white linen tablecloth that covered the cart, Happy opened its lid to reveal a large empty space inside. Lifting 190 lbs. of dead weight, Happy unceremoniously dumped the unconscious man into the cart and slammed the lid shut before draping it once again with the tablecloth.

"Jimmy will let me know once you've loaded him into the catering truck and we'll rendezvous in exactly ten minutes after you leave the estate," Nico reiterated the instructions they had gone over numerous times already.

"Just don't keep my ass waiting," Happy ordered.

"No, sir," Nico gave him a mock salute and watched Happy exit with his cargo the way he had come in.

Pouring herself another glass of Champagne, Nico felt her false bravado strengthen as she delicately drained the flute dry. Walking over to the couch to retrieve her stole, she wrapped it around her shoulders and headed towards the door.

This was sure to be the hardest thing the Syndicate would ever ask her to do, but Nico was determined to see it through nonetheless.

_Per la mia famiglia._

* * *

**Glossary****:**

Merda: Shit.

Bastardo infido: treacherous bastard.

Per la mia famiglia: For my family.

**A/N: As you can see, the Torelli family is not unlike the dysfunctional biker family known as the Sons of Anarchy—they just are a little more uptown! For those of you who would like a visual to compliment the written word, please check out my website—a link is provided on my profile—where you can check out the Torelli Estate, as well as pictures of the Torelli family, including Gianni, Rosanna, Nico, Dominic, Jimmy, and Rocco. I will continue update the website with visuals as the story progresses and other characters are introduced.**

**For those of you who have watched the Season 7 premiere, I hope you caught a reference early in the episode that kind of shows that sometimes Kurt and I are on the same wavelength. Next chapter: Happy goes "no muss, no fuss" on Rocco and learns just how tough Tiny truly is! **

**As always, thanks so much for the reviews and I hope you will let me know what you think of the Torelli family and Nico's role in it.**

**Hugs, Harlee.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

* * *

_**Reno, Nevada—Saturday, February 12, 2011**_

Glancing to his right, one of Happy's dark eyebrows shot up with dubious concern. Tucked into the SUV's passenger seat and huddled under her fur stole, Nico Torelli seemed at peace with the world as she dozed comfortably. Considering the events of the evening thus far, her relaxed demeanor seemed somewhat at odds with the task at hand, especially in light of where they were heading and what they would do once they got there. If he were honest with himself, it kind of unnerved Happy that Nico was calm and collected enough to be taking a fuckin' nap! For some reason, he had been expecting the sophisticated attorney to be losing her shit as well as her nerve right about now.

"But nope," Happy muttered under his breath, his eyes back on the road. "Here she is, sleeping like a fuckin' baby."

Earlier, with Nico following at a safe distance in her ex-husband's flashy sports car, Happy had used the catering truck to smuggle the newly-appointed Boss of the Torelli Syndicate off of the compound and to a private location several miles outside Reno's city limits. Once there, Happy transferred a heavily secured and still unconscious Rocco to the trunk of the SUV before making sure that both the catering truck and Rocco's Ferrari would remain hidden from view until their return. Now well on the way to their final destination, the traffic on the highway was blissfully light and Happy made sure to drive at the speed limit as he used the quiet time to reflect over the last few days.

With his dark eyes drawn once again to the small, yet feisty bitch cradled by the leather car seat next to him, Happy chuckled to himself as he heard her lightly snoring and realized just what an enigma Nico Torelli really was. Certain things, like how fuckin' sexy she was and what a smart-ass mouth she had were blatantly obvious from the moment they had met. Happy, however, couldn't lie about how surprised he had been to discover just how intelligent and savvy she was as well. Hearing Nico lay shit out for Jax had impressed him, not that anyone would have been able to tell by the stone face he had maintained during that first meeting.

Although it was somewhat unusual for the biker to find himself working under the direction of a woman, it seemed that Nico had a fair amount of outlaw experience as well. Even though most of her "suggestions" on how to handle the job were in reality thinly-veiled orders, it was clear that they were of like minds as Happy had already considered and strategized many of her "suggestions" _before_ his arrival in Reno. In spite of her refusal to share the details of any part of the plan not directly involving him, Happy was alright with Nico calling the shots. After all, he was working on her dime and, strangely enough, he trusted her judgment. As long as following her lead didn't wind up landing his ass in a Nevada prison for kidnapping and attempted murder, Happy had no problem taking orders from the Head-Bitch-in-Charge.

In light of his recent efforts to legitimize the Club, both Opie and Happy had been surprised when Jax decided to bring Nico's request for help in cleaning up a serious internal threat to the table for a vote. As Jax had predicted, Clay was quick to throw his hand up in favor of helping out the Syndicate based solely on his long-standing friendship with Jimmy Cacuzza—or so he claimed. In reality, even Happy could see the dollar signs spinning in the former President's steel gray eyes at the mention of the $250K payout the Club would be entitled to for what was essentially a one-man job. Of course, Jax had conveniently neglected to mention Nico's offer to help maneuver the Club toward legitimacy, an omission that led to Clay's quick acceptance of the offer, which in turn went a long way in convincing several brothers who had a problem with murder-for-hire to vote "yea" as well.

What had not been put up for a vote was Nico's request that Happy be tasked with the job, a fact that had Tig somewhat disgruntled, especially after hearing about Tiny's direct involvement in executing the plot. However, Jax made it quite clear that in spite of Nico's request, Happy was—in his mind—the only man for the job as it would require an insane amount of discretion, a term not in Tig's vocabulary. Next time the job required that someone roll up on a target and splatter their brains all over the fuckin' sidewalk in broad daylight, Jax promised, Tig would get the call.

Eschewing Jax's offer to help plot the logistics of the hit, Tiny's plan was to have Happy infiltrate a family event in order to give him access to their intended target. Getting him on the inside as a part of the wait staff provided by the company catering the event had been easy since Tiny had pretty much been her mother's go-to bitch during the planning stage of the event. His guise allowed Happy free reign of all the public areas inside as well as outside of the house. It also gave him the opportunity to not only observe his target, but see Nico Torelli in her element, surrounded by the family that meant so much to her that she was willing to kill for them.

Even though Nico had given him a detailed layout of her family's compound in advance, setting foot onto the Torelli estate for the first time had thrown Happy, a hardened outlaw biker, for a loop. Judging by the marble floors and ornate gold leaf decorating the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive furnishings, it was obvious that the Torelli family had no problem living the high life thanks to their ill-gotten gains. The fact that the Syndicate operated virtually free of any federal interference was a clear indicator that they put as much effort into laundering their dirty money as they did in making it.

_Tony Soprano didn't have it this fuckin' good_, Happy had thought as he made his way around the estate in his disguise.

The mansion—for there was no doubt in his mind that the Torelli home was indeed a mansion—excelled any significant wealth Happy had ever come across in his travels. In fact, all the movies and television shows he had ever seen had fallen way short in their portrayal of mob living when compared to the Torellis.

Ambling among the guests, serving some really tasty shit you would never find on a Ritz Cracker, Happy listened virtually unnoticed to the congenial chatter and laughter around him. No one seemed to be discussing anything remotely related to the "family business". Not even the table packed with swarthy-looking men in near identical dark suits discreetly hiding the bulge of shoulder holsters. Aside from switching flawlessly between English and Italian as they gestured wildly with their hands, these people seemed no different from any other family, including his own—both back in Bakersfield and in Charming. Take away the glitz and glamour of their surroundings and the gathering wasn't all that different from the family dinners Gemma was famous for.

Rolling his eyes as he tugged on the collared shirt under the fitted tuxedo-style jacket he had been forced to endure for hours, Happy was determined to set fire to the get-up the first chance he got. He was also looking forward to receiving his share of the $250K that Tiny had offered for this hit. However, once the job was finished and SAMCRO had received its payment, Happy was unsure whether or not Jax would take the mafia princess-slash-lawyer up on her offer to assist in the Club's "restructuring." More than likely, Jax was waiting to base his decision on whatever information Happy brought back to Charming about the Syndicate and Tiny.

This information had been much easier to cull only after Happy had finished his duties working the bar during cocktail hour. It was a good thing he had been spared the task of having to serve dinner as well. Not only did he need time to prep for the real reason he was there while others were too busy to notice his absence, but there were just some things Happy wasn't prepared to do to get the job done. He wasn't a fuckin' Prospect, for chrissakes!

_Tiny Bitch is certainly a stunner_, Happy thought as he watched her mingling with guests.

It seemed that the mob princess had many personas she to put on display for public consumption, including dutiful and loyal daughter representing her jailbird father; sexy bitch looking for dirty action in a seedy biker bar; leather-clad sexpot who had confidently walked into a lion's den to negotiate a peaceful resolution on her brother's behalf; and tough-as-nails businesswoman in need of some SAMCRO-style problem-solving in return for an offer that, in true mafia fashion, the Club might not be able to refuse.

In every situation, however, she remained the same—small, fierce and sexy as hell. The role Happy liked the best, however, was one his brothers had not had the good fortune of witnessing first hand: a dick-loving hot piece of ass who did her best work while riding his hard cock.

_Something I need to experience for myself again, and soon_.

Watching as Nico made a move on her ex-husband, practically seducing him into a private meeting, had equally disgusted and fascinated Happy. In spite of the surge of jealous rage he felt coursing through his veins at the sight of Tiny in her ex's arms, Happy managed to convince himself that the sheer hatred he felt for Rocco Agnello came from the knowledge that he was the traitorous bastard that had ordered the hit on Nico's sick father. After all, in Happy's mind, turning on one's family was the ultimate act of betrayal. Although he never spoke about it, many years before Happy had participated in the elimination of a patch that had turned on his family, his brothers, and the Club.

Leaving the main ballroom, Happy had retrieved the cart and the champagne he had chilling in a side closet before heading to the pool house. Although it shouldn't have, watching Nico put the moves on her ex-husband had irked the shit out of him. Unobserved, Happy stood by the curtained doors and peered into the large, sunken living room, noting grumpily that either Tiny put her heart and soul into her work or she still got wet for her ex. Judging from appearances, Happy would have sworn that she was completely and deeply enthralled by their target as she thoroughly washed the back of his throat with her tongue.

With Tiny having made mention of the fact that she had a kid with the bastard, Happy was starting to question whether some feelings remained—at least on her part—in spite of the divorce. After all, they were about to get down to the nitty gritty and he needed to know whether or not Tiny was really up for the task that lay ahead.

As Happy pulled off the highway, he figured that in another ten minutes he would be finding out for sure.

* * *

The Truckee River was more like a stream that flowed in a northeasterly direction between the states of California and Nevada. Located about 15 miles north of the Reno-Tahoe International Airport, it was the next to final destination for the SUV that was carrying its three passengers approximately 20 miles south of the Torelli Compound.

Now wide awake after her little cat nap—a result of the two glasses of champagne she had downed on an empty stomach—Nico watched as Happy carefully maneuvered the SUV through the underbrush of the heavily wooded trail. The road was practically nonexistent, resembling a well-traveled dirt trail more than anything, which was difficult enough to navigate during the day and only worse in the near pitch dark.

"You couldn't find a more out of the way place for me to handle this shit, like Timbuktu, maybe?" Happy grunted as he guided the vehicle, its high beams an absolute necessity as the quarter moon wasn't giving much in the way of light.

"I took your request for absolute privacy to heart, Happy," Nico drawled. "There's no one for miles in every direction that could possibly hear a man scream. And if there was, they'd probably think it was a coyote anyway."

"It's a good thing I checked this shithole out earlier, or we'd never find it in the dark," he grumbled.

"I have complete faith in your abilities, Hap. We wouldn't be here if I didn't," she replied candidly.

And Nico meant it too. It was a trust that had steadily grown since Happy's arrival in Reno two days earlier to go over logistics. His meticulous planning and attention to detail only served to confirm her initial belief that he was the right man for the job. With her mother's constant demands a drain on her time as she did the final prep for the party, Nico never seemed to have enough time left over for anything but strategizing with Happy. As disappointing as that was for Nico, it didn't seem to faze Happy at all as he was 100% focused on the job at hand.

Finally pulling into a clearing in front of a long, low building, Nico straightened her shoulders. What was about to go down was something she never thought she'd have the stomach for, especially as her father kept that aspect of the business well-hidden from his wife and children. But as Gianni Torelli's most trusted confidante aside from Jimmy Cacuzza, Nico didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't have the stomach for it, she better develop one and quick between the SUV and the front door of the warehouse because shit needed handling.

"Stay here," Happy ordered as he parked the mid-sized sports utility vehicle near the entrance. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, Happy made his way to the door, unlocked it and stepped inside.

Nico watched as a bright light suddenly flooded the inside and the doorway, and waited for Happy to return. "You can go in now."

She could clearly hear the rushing waters of the stream, along with the chirping of crickets and the movement of other nocturnal animals as she stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her. "Thanks for turning on the lights," Nico said wryly as she walked around Happy.

"It's a long trip down to the ground from atop those ridiculous heels," he tossed over his shoulder as he made his way to the trunk of the SUV. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt on my watch, Tiny."

Rolling her eyes, Nico continued making her way inside the building which sat on five acres of land. The building and the land had once belonged to a former business associate who had cut the Syndicate out of a land deal Gianni himself had brokered several years before. In order to keep his head attached to his shoulders, the man had been forced to forfeit this property along with several others worth millions. Nico had chosen this site in particular because it was well off the beaten path and buried in a never-ending paper trail that served to hide its transfer of ownership to the Syndicate. As far as Nico was concerned, it was the perfect location for Happy to do his dirty work.

Walking around the large and open space, Nico took note of the effort Happy had put in setting up his work area to the specs he required and nodded with approval. Theplace of dishonor where Rocco would be interrogated looked cold and extremely uncomfortable. Stepping up to a folding table, Nico examined the unfurled leather roll with two rows of shiny surgical-looking instruments.

Hearing the door close behind her, Nico turned around to see Happy carrying a securely bound Rocco over his shoulders as if he weighed no more than a carpet remnant. Hitting the light switch on the wall as he entered, the room once again fell into darkness, the only light coming from an industrial floor lamp Happy had set up next to his work area.

"I see you take a lot of pride in your work," Nico said with respect.

"I do," Happy replied.

Before coming in, Happy had changed from the server's uniform into a pair of dark wash jeans, black t-shirt and black leather work boots. Over that, he wore a thick, rubber-looking apron, the kind line workers wore in fisheries in order to prevent fish guts from saturating their uniforms. He looked fierce and menacing, like some horrific medieval surgeon preparing his next cadaver for dissection as he lay Rocco down on a stone slab and got to work.

It seemed quite incongruous to her that the man whose hands had so expertly reduced her own body to a mass of quivering flesh was about to do the same to her ex, although under an entirely different set of circumstances with an entirely different outcome. Standing to the side, she watched as Happy stripped Rocco and prepared him for the worst ordeal of his life.

As he worked, Nico closed her eyes and silently prayed for the strength to do what had to be done. Murder was a mortal sin and although Nico wasn't overly religious, her strict Catholic upbringing was something that was hard to shake off. At the very least, killing another human being would bring bad karma on all those involved and, above all else, went against her nature.

Still, on some level, Nico had always known that if pushed to the extreme, she had the capacity to take a life. She had come to that realization the moment she had pushed her son into the world and held him tenderly in her arms. It was only then that Nico truly understood a mother's love and swore that she would do anything to protect her son and her family.

As an attorney, Nico had done much in the way of protecting her family over the years, using her brains and legal skills to continually push the legitimate side of the family business forward. She had also toed the line ethically while doing her best to protect the Syndicate's criminal enterprises from other non-friendly families as well as law enforcement. Tonight's venture, Nico reasoned, really wasn't any different. The death of a traitor, a usurper to the throne, was a part of the necessary order of business when it came to running a crime syndicate. Nevertheless, although she was only there to extract information, Nico knew that Rocco's blood—the blood of her son's father—would stain her hands as much as it would Happy's. More so hers because while being forever loyal to her father, she was responsible for denying Tonio a relationship with his.

Nico, however, refused to let guilt prevent her from doing what she had been tasked to do. After all, she couldn't be held responsible for the bad choices Rocco had made. As her Nonna would have said were she still alive, "Si raccoglie ciò che si semina."

With a grim face, Nico put a full stop to all sentimental musings when Happy spoke to her.

"I'm all set, Tiny. You ready?" he said, his dark tone echoing in the large space.

Nico braced herself by straightening her shoulders before turning to face him. "As I'll ever be," she replied staunchly.

Without another word, Happy pulled an ammonia capsule from the pocket of his apron and, placing it under Rocco's nose, cracked it open. As the pungent fumes permeated his nostrils, the bound man suddenly shook his head violently as he quickly regained consciousness. Inhaling deeply, Rocco began to cough violently.

"What—what the fuck?" he said hoarsely, his eyes wheeling about the room as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Stretched out on a broken, slanted slab of concrete, Rocco slowly realized to his horror that he had been stripped naked as he shivered uncontrollably from the chill in the damp air. With arms and legs stretched to almost the breaking point and anchored firmly by ropes that were tied around hooks at each end of the slab, it was impossible for him to even attempt to free himself.

In the shadows of the long and cavernous room, Rocco could dimly make out walls of rough gray concrete. With crates and sacks stacked six feet high on pallets lining the walls, the room was dank and dismal, the only light coming from the glaring light bulb shining directly into his eyes and obscuring his vision. He could, however, hear movement and realized he wasn't alone.

"Who's there? Where the fuck am I?" he demanded loudly, his throat dry and scratchy.

"Don't matter who I am. Don't matter where you're at either," a dark, foreboding voice echoed out of the darkness.

"Look," Rocco swallowed the lump in his throat, and managed to speak with some authority. "You're right. Who you are doesn't matter, but where I come from _money talks_. Now, I don't know why my bitch of an ex-wife would have you kidnap me, but I'm willing to forget this shit ever happened and pay you double what she's paying you if you let me go."

"Can't do that," came the terse reply.

"And why the fuck not? You don't even know how high I'm willing to go," Rocco said heatedly. "Listen, I'm not looking to pull one over on ya, especially not when you have me over a barrel. I can fix it so that you'll never have to work again. Why give a fuck if you double-cross the bitch?"

Suddenly, Rocco heard the soft clicking of heels on the cement floor. As the light was moved away from his direct line of vision, he watched grimfaced as his ex-wife slowly made her way towards him, dragging a metal folding chair behind her.

"Because believe it or not, Rocco, men who honor their word still exist in our world," Nico drawled.

Turning the folding chair around, she sat down and crossed a leg over the other. "You are right about one thing though. I _am _a bitch." She rolled her eyes to the left as she heard Happy's smothered laughter quickly morph into a fit of coughing. Without comment, she turned her attention back to her ex-husband. "And this bitch has you by the short and curlies."

"Maybe you wanna tell me the fuck WHY?!" Rocco shouted. "One minute you're all over me like some fuckin' whore and the next you're acting like some psycho scorned bitch! Is that what this is about? You finally getting back at me for fuckin' around on you all those years, huh? Well, get over it, hon, 'cause we're done. I wasn't even gonna fuck you anyways!"

Nico threw her head back and laughed. "I believe that like you believe you're going to walk out of here alive. Oh, wait, you _do_ believe that, don't you?" she asked before making a tsk-tsk sound. "I hate to disappoint you, Roc, but it seems that this ride we took out to the middle of nowhere is a one-way trip for you."

She watched as Rocco struggled in vain against the coarse rope binding his limbs, noting how it grated and tore against the exposed flesh. "You think you're gonna get away with this shit?! I don't care how much you think your shit don't stink, Nico! Being Gianni Torelli's daughter isn't gonna save you from this. I'm the Boss, the Don. You don't FUCK with me!" he growled.

"You should know me better than that, Roc," Nico started softly. "This isn't some rogue operation I've concocted to pay you back for your cheating ways. This isn't personal—well, yeah it is, but it's not personal between you and me. See, I only ever do what I'm asked to do in the best interest of the family. We're here because my father, the _true_ Don of this family sanctioned your death himself," she stated and grinned fiercely as her calmly spoken words turned Rocco's features pale.

"You're making a mistake, Nico," Rocco tried a new tact by reasoning with his ex-wife. "Why would Johnny T want me dead? He's treated me like a son for almost twenty years—"

Nico nodded in agreement. "He _has_ been like a father to you, Roc. Over the years, Papa has shown you more favor than he has his own son and you've become a very rich man because of it," she noted. "But rich men always want more and you got greedy. You put a hit out on my father and he almost died in prison like some filthy animal."

"Nico, that's not true," Rocco pleaded. "Baby—"

"Don't you fucking call me 'baby'!" Nico yelled as she jumped up from her chair, tipping it back until it fell with a resounding clatter on the cement floor. "Has all that blow you've inhaled over the years riddled your brain with holes? We're not here—YOU'RE not tied to that concrete slab because we 'suspect' that you orchestrated the attack that almost killed my father. We fucking KNOW, Rocco! This here is retribution for double-crossing Gianni Torelli and the family and as such, you won't be getting a quick, clean death. A bullet to the back of the head for attempting and _failing_ to assassinate the Don is too fucking good for you. I'm here to make sure you suffer before I report back to my father on your awesomely gruesome and excruciatingly painful death," she said coldly as she brought her anger under control and watched the fear and panic bloom in Rocco's blue eyes.

"Nico," Rocco started, his voice cracking. "Nico, please, you're a lawyer—a fuckin' lawyer for chrissakes! Where's my due process, huh? I don't get the chance to defend myself? Why? Is this some conspiracy to make sure Dominic becomes the next head of the family?"

"Don't be an asshole, Rocco. I've already done my due process. I take pride in what I do. I don't half-ass my work, but apparently it seems that you do," Nico declared pointedly. "It's no secret—to me anyway—that you love slumming with your druggie whores and their hustling pimps. A good time is a good time, right?" she shrugged her shoulders. "Your mistake, however, was farming out a contract hit on my father to one of those low-life degenerates."

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKIN' ABOUT, NICO?!" Rocco bellowed.

Nico shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Rocco, you're making a huge mistake if you think playing dumb is somehow going to spare you. All you're doing is wasting precious breath that's in short supply considering you'll be dead soon and my time, which is too valuable a commodity for me to waste on the likes of you," Nico stated matter-of-fact. "My friend back there," she gestured over her shoulder, "and I are not here to get a confession out of you. The Warden at Ely, an old family friend, was able to get a 'death bed' confession from the tweaker that shivved my father. Now, the tweaker didn't name you, per se, but he did give up his baby mama who just so happens to work for a pimp friend of yours from Vegas. With his balls _literally_ on the chopping block, that so-called friend of yours gave you up."

"A pimp?! That's your fuckin' source and you believe him?!" Rocco was apoplectic.

Nico shrugged her shoulders. "Why not? He had no reason to lie. He knew he was going to die anyway. All we had to do was promise to spare his mother back in Nebraska the same fate if he told us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"You're insane, Nico," Rocco nearly blubbered. "This is just some plot to get me out of the way. Who's in on it with ya, huh? Your Uncle Jimmy? Dom in on it too 'cause I can't, I _won't_ believe that Gianni sanctioned this shit! He knows that I love him like he was my own fuckin' blood!"

At that, Nico practically ran towards him, slamming her balled up fist into his mouth and splitting his lip wide open.

"Don't you ever talk shit to me about your love for my father!" she spit out before cutting loose with a litany of curses in a mix of English and Italian as she continued hurling punches on Rocco's face and body.

From the side lines, Happy watched with quiet approval before deciding to put a stop to the substantial damage the petite woman was doing. Striding towards her, he gently pulled her away. "Leave that sack of shit to me," he said softly. "No need for you to bruise up your hands on that fucker."

Wincing with pain and anger as blood dripped down his face, Rocco directed his next words at the familiar looking man who had an arm wrapped around his ex-wife's shoulders. "What, you think she's gonna fuck you when this shit's all over? You're wasting your time, my friend. Not only is Nicoletta Torelli above your pay grade, but her pussy's cold as ice."

Instead of getting the reaction he was expecting, Rocco watched in shocked disbelief as Nico slipped her arms around the bald-headed man's waist. "Do you think my pussy's cold as ice, killer?" she pouted prettily.

"Fuck no!" Happy readily exclaimed. "That shit's warm and tight. Tastes just like a ripe fuckin' peach too."

"Awww, isn't he sweet?" Nico cocked her head as she looked up at Happy with gooey eyes before turning her gaze back to Rocco. "Guess that shit was only cold for you, Roc, not someone who can lay that pipe just right, day in and day out," she grinned saucily, letting out a girly yelp followed by a giggle as Happy slapped a heavy hand on a plump ass cheek, kneading it fondly.

"You must got a limp dick letting this fine piece of ass get away," Happy smirked arrogantly. "Don't worry, though. I'm taking real good care of that shit for you." As the helpless and angry man fought against the restraints tethering him to Happy's make-shift work table, the outlaw bent down and possessively took Nico's mouth with his own.

"You're a fuckin' whore!" Rocco yelled hoarsely.

Tenderly stroking Happy's face, Nico finally pulled away and turned to face Rocco. She heard Happy pick up and steady the chair for her as she sat down again. "It has to sting an arrogant piece of shit like you, right? The fact that I'd rather be his whore than your wife?" she chuckled softly, crossing one leg over the other. "The truth is, Roc, you're not worthy of licking the bottom of his fucking boots. See, the only difference between you and him that matters to me is that he's loyal, to his family as well as his associates. That's why I personally chose him to do the job. After I fucked him, of course."

"I thought I had seen everything." Rocco moved his head from side to side. "Never thought I'd live to see Gianni Torelli whore his own little princess out to do his dirty work from inside prison."

Instead of flying off the handle again, Nico just smiled as she shrugged her shoulders. "Sticks and stones, Rocco. And for the record, your opinion of me never, _ever_ mattered," she replied nonchalantly. "What I'm sitting here trying to figure out is _why_. Why risk everything to take over a business that would have been yours anyway if you had just remained loyal?" Nico shook her head. "I guess it doesn't matter now, does it? We'll just chalk it up to pure greed, plain and simple."

Nico sighed and briefly massaged her temple to alleviate the pressure. Turning in her chair, she looked up at Happy. "I think it's time you get started. It's destined to be a long night, so the sooner we wrap this up the better."

As Rocco lay helpless, he watched as the tall man came from behind Nico. It finally dawned on him that the bald-headed man was the server who had brought the Champagne to the pool house to celebrate what he thought had been his ascension to the top of the Torelli Syndicate.

A celebration that Rocco had realized was short-lived even before the man picked up a long, sharp tool and made his way towards him.

* * *

Rocco was unsure how much longer he could withstand the pain. The last thirty minutes might as well have been thirty years as the formidable man wielded his instruments of torture against him. With his throat already bloody and raw from screaming, all Rocco was capable of was whimpering in agony as his bitch of an ex-wife sat stone cold and relentless.

_No questions_, he thought dismally. _Just straight out torture_.

Finally, the tall, tattooed man took a break from dishing out his brutality and Rocco turned his head to plead with Nico with teary eyes.

"Please, please stop this, Nico," he begged. "You can stop this, I know you can. What can I do to make you stop this, please?"

"I'm surprised it took you this long to ask," Nico replied softly. "It's quite simple, really. Just tell me _everything_."

"Then I confess already, all right? I did it. I set up the hit," he moaned in defeat. "But you can't kill me, Nico. Think of our son. Think of Tonio."

Nico smirked. "As much as I appreciate your confession, as I told you earlier, it's not necessary. Your death is a done deal, Roc. Now whether or not our son learns the truth of your disgraceful downfall, well that depends on you. Give me the names of everyone involved and I'll take to my own grave the fact that you tried to kill Tonio's grandfather."

"It's always about your father, ain't it?" Rocco licked his dry lips. "Do you really care so little about how my death will affect our son? That he will grow up without a father?" he pleaded.

Nico's expression softened momentarily before settling back into hardened lines. "There's no doubt it will be painful for him. In fact, Tonio may never get over your death, I know this," she said solemnly. "But as much as that hurts me as his mother, it is what it is and I have to accept it. There's a price to pay for being a part of this family and that price in unwavering loyalty. No one gets a pass, Rocco. Our son is strong. It'll hurt, but he'll survive your passing."

"How do you think he'll survive if he ever finds out you made sure I wouldn't get a pass?" he asked bitterly as he coughed weakly.

"Aside from my father and Uncle Jimmy, only three other people know what's happening here tonight," Nico stated. "And of those three, one won't be alive by sunrise, so I'll take my chances with those odds and bet that Tonio will never find out."

"You're a cold-hearted bitch, you know that?" Rocco spit out.

"I do know that, but strangely enough, my conscience is clear." Nico crossed her leg casually. "Let's talk about your conscience, Rocco. There's no need for you to suffer retribution alone."

"What are you talking about?"

"You shared way too fucking much with that pimp friend of yours. I know you had support in this and that support came from within the Syndicate," Nico stated, much to Rocco's surprise. "Just give me their names and I'll have my friend here end this shit with a lot less pain."

Lying on the broken slab of concrete, Rocco was out of his mind with the pain. He had no idea where Nico had stumbled on the fucker, but her executioner-for-hire was turning his life into a living hell with very little effort on his part. As he looked into the cold blue eyes of his ex-wife, Rocco knew that there was no way he was talking his way out of there alive. He had foolishly gambled on a hostile takeover of his father-in-law's holdings. Rocco had known all along what the price would be for betting against the house and Nico was right—the crazy fuckin' bitch! He shouldn't go down alone. There was no sense in praying for a quick death when all he had to do was give her what she wanted in return for some compassion.

"Promise me he'll make it quick, Nico," Rocco pleaded.

With her jaw set tight, Nico nodded. "You have my word, Roc."

With tears, snot and blood running down his face, Rocco hoarsely whispered the names of his co-conspirators, two of the four captains he had under his command and their soldiers under them.

"Is that all of them?" Nico demanded quietly. "Just the two?"

_No_, Rocco thought grimly, but he could never tell her the whole truth.

During these last few moments, Rocco had made peace with himself and was resolved to suffer whatever Nico had in store for him if she chose not to believe him. His partner in the unsuccessful coup was also a man who did not suffer disloyalty lightly. Getting the old wily bastard to pull the necessary strings to facilitate the assassination of Gianni Torelli had come with a steep price. Rocco had to bear the brunt of the price tag on his own, which made moving money around a necessity. He should have known that Nico would have sniffed out the paper trail that led back to him.

Although the agreement between Rocco and his partner was to takeover the family jointly, splitting it 50-50 and bringing an end to the Syndicate, Rocco knew that throwing his ally's name at Nico's feet would come at a much higher price than just his own life. His life as he knew it was over; there was nothing he could do to stop it and his partner couldn't kill him twice.

_But he could kill Tonio_, Rocco thought, bitterly regretting the deal he had made with the devil.

As far as fathers went, Rocco knew that he would never be remembered as the World's Greatest Dad. Living the sort of life he had, it was expected that certain things would fall by the wayside and for Rocco that had been his wife and son. He knew Nico had never really loved him and the feeling was mutual—although the sex was decent, at least for him—but he did love his son.

Once his partner had committed his support to taking over the family by any means necessary, the old bastard made it clear that even though they would share in the spoils, if shit went south, Rocco was on his own. Turn rat and he stood to lose more than just his own life. He'd lose his legacy.

_Tonio is such a handsome and smart young man. It would be such a waste if he died before he really got the chance to live solely because his father's a weak piece of shit._

Clearly a threat, Rocco was quick to assure him that their alliance was a secret he would protect with his life. Now it seemed was the time to make good on that promise. Already considered a traitor, the least he could do was give his life to protect his son's. So as Nico stared into his eyes, Rocco Agnello told his last lie.

"There's no one else," he muttered, dejected and defeated. "I swear."

Rocco watched as Nico stared at him for a long time. Coming to a final determination, she stood up and walked towards him.

"Our son will get the chance to see his father properly buried. I hope knowing that at least gives you a small measure of comfort," Nico said quietly. "And he'll never know the truth of what you did," she promised.

Finally nodding to Happy, Nico stepped aside as the biker approached her former husband, his gloved hand holding a large bowie knife. As he held it high above his head, Rocco screamed an incoherent prayer for God to take mercy on his soul, or something to that extent. Unflinching, Nico watched the blade penetrate Rocco's chest as it imbedded itself dead center of his black heart.

* * *

"Tiny, are you outta your fuckin' mind?" Happy growled.

"Uh, how many times do I have to tell you my name is _not_ Tiny?" Nico shot back, her arms folded over her chest as she glared up him, the silvery moonlight barely illuminating his dark features.

"Grow a couple of inches and I'll consider it," he countered.

"Ha, ha," she replied sarcastically. "You're so funny. Now can we put paid to this whole scenario and get on with our lives?"

It was nearly 11:00 p.m. Leaning against Rocco's car, Nico was barely able to make out the features of her accomplice. It had taken them thirty minutes to make their way from Truckee River to this stretch of deserted road with her driving Rocco's car and Happy following in a stolen van. Nico had spent a considerable amount of time picking out the precise spot for this part of the plan and now that the worst of their mission had been accomplished, she was looking forward to finally closing the book on one Rocco Agnello.

"You wanna explain to me why you dragged my ass all the way out here?" Happy asked interrupting her train of thought.

"We need to run this shit off the road," she said, indicating the Ferrari with a tilt of her head. A sudden gust of wind whipped through her hair and rustled the trees behind her.

Happy crossed his arms. "Let me guess, some more of your window dressing."

"That's right, big fella," Nico smiled. "We have to stage a scene, complete with a set of tire tracks that will support my story, just in case the cops feel the need to investigate thoroughly."

"Care to share what that story is?"

"Well," Nico started and sniffed as she let her eyes demurely fall to the ground. "We were on the way to Rocco's house for a 'private' discussion, you understand, when suddenly a van came out of nowhere, ramming us from behind," she said with no little feeling as if on the verge of tears. "Rocco lost control and slammed into a tree. I must have been knocked unconscious because the next thing I know, I opened my eyes and Rocco was gone."

Shaking his head, Happy let out a gruff chuckle. "You're fuckin' nuts."

"That's neither here nor there," Nico replied, suddenly sober. "Now, I picked this road because not only is it a quick drive from my parent's to Rocco's but there's usually no traffic at this time at night," she explained. "That and there's a big ass tree at the end of the road that will do nicely for the crash site."

Pushing herself away from the car, Nico was about to jump into the driver's seat when Happy grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Whoa? What are you doin'?"

"I just told you," Nico said with exasperation. "I'm driving this here car into that there tree."

"No, you're not," Happy stated firmly as he unceremoniously pushed her out of the way. "I told you, you're not getting hurt on my watch. I'll handle this."

"Hap, I know what I'm doing," she said petulantly. "Who do you think taught Dom how to drive?"

"I don't give a fuck, brat," Happy retorted. "You ain't doing this. Now give me the fuckin' keys."

"Are you serious?" Nico huffed exasperated.

"Do I look like I'm fuckin' joking?" Happy deadpanned with a beastly frown furrowing his handsome brow. "Give me the damn keys and go sit your ass in the van."

Muttering to herself in Italian as she rolled her eyes, Nico dropped the keys in Happy's gloved palm and watched as he pulled the door open and got inside the sports car.

"Misogynist asshole," she tossed over her shoulder as she scuttled over to the van on her ice pick heels. Climbing into the driver's seat, Nico slammed the door. Rubbing her hands together in an effort to keep them warm, she watched as Happy slowly pulled off before gathering speed, the rear lights gleaming brightly.

The sound of the Ferrari hitting the tree was loud and somewhat terrifying. "Shit," she muttered, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hope he's all right."

Several minutes passed in eerie silence, feeding into Nico's apprehension. Turning the key in the ignition, she hit the high beams button and muffled a shriek as Happy suddenly came into view right in front of the van.

Throwing the door open, she jumped out of the vehicle. "Damn it, Hap! What took you so long? I thought—" Nico stopped abruptly, causing a smirk to spread over Happy's face.

"You thought what, Tiny? That sumpthin' bad happened to me?" he said with a leer. "You taking a shine to me already?"

"Don't get your hopes up," she fired back even as something akin to relief made her stomach flutter. "So how does the car look?"

"Like it hit a fuckin' tree," Happy snarked. "Why you worrying? I know what I'm doing. Now get your ass back inside," he ordered and pulled open the driver side door. "And make it quick."

Grumbling audibly, Nico did as she was told with barely enough time to slide over to the passenger seat before Happy hopped in right behind her and cranked up the engine.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"A little late in the game to be losing faith in me, don'tcha think, Tiny?" he replied as he gunned the motor. "I know how to handle my shit."

_It would seem that he did_, Nico thought as he barreled down the narrow two-lane road. On the wrong side of the road, as if he were parallel to another vehicle, he suddenly hit the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. The screeching van came to a stop slanted diagonally across the road.

Jostled in her seat, it took a moment for Nico to focus her eyes on the smoking wreck that was Rocco's car now illuminated by the van's headlights. The silver Ferrari had taken most of the impact on the front of the car with the driver's side having suffered the most damage. The passenger side was cocked off to the side, its door wide open.

"How I do?" Happy asked, his voice hinting at a smile as he watched Nico get out of the van. Without a reply, she walked over to survey the wreckage using the van's headlights to guide her way. Getting out of the van, Happy followed behind her.

She turned to face him. "I'd say pretty damn spectacular, killer. I don't think Dom could have done any better," Nico admitted as she turned back to gaze at the car. "Rocco loved that car. He'd be so fucking pissed right now," she grinned. "Now, all that's left is putting some finishing touches to the narrative and your job here is done."

_Mine, on the other hand, is just beginning._

"And what would those be?" Happy asked as he watched Nico reach into the wreck to pull out her clutch.

"This," she replied as she pulled out her cell phone and handed it to him. "I need you to destroy and dump this shit somewhere it won't be found. I already removed the battery so there's no way to track where I've been tonight using cell phone records."

"A'ight," he replied and took the phone from her and pocketed it.

"Good. Now, all I need you to do is hit me," she stated nonchalantly.

For a moment, Happy thought he had heard wrong. "What did you say?" he asked guardedly.

"You heard me. I need to look like I've been in a car that hit a tree," she retorted and rolled her eyes as she saw that for the first time that evening she had really shocked the outspoken biker. "Oh come on, Hap. You trying to tell me you've never hit a woman before?" she jeered.

"I've hit plenty of people in my life, including one or two pushy, pain-in-the-ass broads, but this is the first time some crazy bitch has ever requested it," Happy retorted.

"I find that hard to believe, considering how rough you like it in the sack," Nico smirked. "But if that truly is the case, get over it, killer," she said strongly and sighed as she took note of the look of sheer stubbornness settle on Happy's face. "Look, I've got to sell this shit to the police _and_ my family. Me turning up without a mark while my ex gets kidnapped and whacked is not going to fly."

For a moment, there was silence. "You really gonna take a shot to the face?" he said almost gently.

"It's for _my family_. Wouldn't you? Why am I even asking? I _know_ you would," Nico snorted. "Now stop stalling. It's a miracle we've been out here this long with nobody on the road. Just do it. C'mon, ya pussy! Hit me!"

Flashing her a fierce scowl, Happy noted the determined look on her face and decided to capitulate. "Any preference as far as location?" he asked quietly.

"Dealer's choice," Nico replied as she eyed him. "Just make it count."

_Tiny and tough_, Happy thought with unwilling admiration as he flexed the muscles in his fingers. Seeing the unwavering glint in her eye, Happy squared his shoulders. Grabbing her by her right arm, he figured the quicker it was done the better, so without hesitation, he slammed his huge fist into her jaw.

Nico's head snapped back and she saw stars in her eyes that were brighter than the ones in the black sky overhead. "Holy shit, you cock-sucking motherfucker!" she swore profusely as her body rocked from the impact, her knees sagging and her legs almost giving out underneath her.

Happy swore under his breath, grimly keeping her upright as the small woman tried to get her bearings. "You a'ight?"

"No! Of course I'm not all right!" Nico sputtered. "You have a powerful right jab there." She used her free hand to gingerly feel her lower face. It was already starting to swell, but it wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. "Again," she ordered.

"Aw, hell's no, Tiny."

"I said again, damn it. I need some blood splatter, so aim for the mouth area. Just don't knock any teeth out and DON'T break my nose."

"You're a fuckin' psycho," he declared.

"A point you've already established," she sighed. "Look, just one more, Hap. I promise."

Waiting for a response, the last thing Nico saw was a fist covered in black leather coming her way.

* * *

Nico came to and found herself stretched out in the dirt on the side of the road, the drip of something thick and warm trailing down her chin. She smiled crookedly, savoring the coppery taste of her own blood.

"Now that's how you do that shit, tiger," she said with a slight lisp as she looked up into the concerned face of the man squatting over her.

"Goddamn it, Tiny. You are one twisted and fucked up bitch."

Nico glared at Happy. "I thought I told you to stop calling me bitch."

"I just popped you twice in the fuckin' face and _that's_ what you have a problem with?" Happy exclaimed with exasperation.

"That shit was necessary. Name-calling is not," Nico muttered as she suddenly found herself in a sitting position as the biker pulled her upright. Nico swiped at the blood that was trickling freely from both her nose and split lip. "I think this might work. Maybe I should have a knot on my head too, you know, from the impact of hitting the tree. I could slam my head against the hood of the van, since you seem so reluctant—"

"Enough, a'ight?" Happy growled. "You look a fuckin' mess. Put on an act like you did back at the pool house and you'll sell the shit out of your story," he said as he took in the once-immaculate designer dress that was now wrinkled and matted with dirt and blood stains. Standing up, he helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get the fuck outta here."

Sweeping her up into his arms, Happy carried her to the van. Settling her into the passenger seat, he trotted around the front end and hopped in, quickly pulling off down the road. "Where to?"

"Stay on this road. In about a mile, you'll come to a fork. I'll get out there and walk the quarter-mile to Rocco's place in Madison Woods," Nico replied. "It's a gated community with a 24-hour guard tower at the entrance. I'll get someone to call the police and take it from there."

"I don't like the thought of leaving you at the side of the fuckin' road alone," Happy grumbled. "Especially after the two shots you took to the face."

"I appreciate the concern," Nico smiled at Happy, flashing blood-stained teeth. "I'll be fine. I want you and this van as far away as possible before the cops show up. Besides, you have a long road trip ahead of you. If all goes according to plan, Rocco's body should be found before next night fall."

Happy smirked and shook his head, his eyes focused on the dark road. "Seems to me like your ex picked the wrong bitch to fuck with."

"Seeing as that sounds like a compliment, I'll excuse you for calling me a 'bitch' again," Nico chuckled as she swiped at the blood on her chin. "You really came through for me, Hap," she said soberly. "I really appreciate what you've done."

"It's all part of the service provided by SAMCRO," he replied, slowly pulling to a stop as the promised fork came into sight.

"Part of the service or not, you did real good tonight, killer. I owe you a big debt," Nico said sincerely. "Maybe by the time we see each other again I can come up with a way to repay you," she offered, a knowing little smile turning up the corner of her mouth. Happy couldn't help but chuckle as she winced and swore.

"I can think of at least six different ways right now, Tiny," Happy replied, an eyebrow arched lecherously. "So yeah, I'll take an IOU on that shit for later." He reached across her lap and popped open her door. "Need help getting out?"

"It's all good, outlaw," Nico replied casually as she eased her way out of the car. Pulling out her stole, she tut-tutted at its condition as it had, unfortunately, hit the dirt when she had. "Ma's gonna freak when she sees this."

"Shouldn't she worry about the condition you're in and not some piece of rat fur?" Happy asked gruffly.

"Have you met my mother?" she replied wryly as she wrapped the stole around her shoulders before slamming the door shut. "And for your information, this 'rat fur' is _chinchilla_." She watched as the outlaw swallowed what was more than likely laughter. "I'll be in touch," Nico said through the window before turning away to slowly walk down the road, her only saving grace the intermittent street lights illuminating her path.

_Tiny Bitch thought about everything_, Happy surmised. He sat and watched as her small form finally disappeared from view before shifting into drive and turning in the opposite direction.

Tonight had certainly been a lot more interesting than he had expected. Working over that piece of shit who had betrayed his own family had brought him a lot of satisfaction. In spite of their differences, the Torelli's were a lot like his dysfunctional family of outlaw bikers. Loyalty, solidarity and protecting one's family at all costs was a strictly held code of honor both families shared.

'_Sides, it felt good getting dirty again_, Happy thought. Having Tiny ride shotgun had made it an even better experience.

"I like her," Happy admitted to himself and to his no-longer-living passenger in the back. "Like a lot."

Happy reached into the pocket of his hoodie and checked the time on his prepay. If he put a foot on it, it wouldn't take him too long to get to the location of the drop. If all went well, he should be back in Charming in a couple of days.

Deciding to focus on the job ahead, Happy lingered on having Tiny and her delectable body in his debt for just another moment and grinned fiercely. He didn't know when or where, but there was one thing he knew for damn sure.

_That is one IOU I definitely intend on cashing in_.

* * *

**Glossary**:

La mia famiglia: my family

Nonna: grandmother

Si raccoglie ciò che si semina: You reap what you sow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe, Nico and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.**

* * *

_**Tuesday, March 8, 2011**_

Save for the Prospect shuffling a broom around the bar half-heartedly, the Clubhouse was deathly quiet. It would have surprised no one that the main room was practically a ghost town as it was barely pushing 7:00 in the morning. Bobby Munson looked forward to enjoying these quiet moments to himself early in the day before the garage opened and the denizens of Casa SAMCRO started emerging from their lairs. Instead of enjoying a cup of coffee and a slice of some freshly baked banana bread as he had planned, however, Bobby was sitting in companionable silence with the Club's medic at one of the tables she had moved under one of the overhead lighting fixtures.

"Marley-girl, you really didn't have to come see about me," Bobby said as he eyed the young woman who was bent over his hand, an open first-aid kit sitting beside her on the small table. "Ratboy shouldn't have called you. He coulda fixed me up just fine."

"Nonsense, Bobby. When one of my boys gets hurt on my watch, you know I have to step up. Otherwise, how am I gonna earn that big fat fee SAMCRO pays me for keeping a medic on retainer?" Marlowe grinned as she carefully wrapped sterile gauze around the palm of his hand. "That and Gem would have my guts for garters if I was derelict in my duty as an old lady."

Bobby chuckled. "I never thought I'd see _you_ toeing the line with Mother Superior. You ain't in the Navy no more, Doc. It's okay to rebel against authority around here every once in a while. As a matter of fact, we encourage it."

"Yes, I'm well aware of the Club's stance on authority figures," Marlowe said with a laugh. "And trust, I give as good as I get, but I was planning on dropping by the Clubhouse before work anyway. Hope you learned your lesson, though. Kitchen towels and potholders are not interchangeable," she scolded lightly.

"Shit, learned that the hard way too. Busted up a perfectly good loaf of banana bread when the pan hit the floor," Bobby lamented.

"Well, I'll pick up some potholders for you from the dollar store in Lodi and drop them off later," Marlowe offered.

"Thanks, sweetheart. You're too good to me," Bobby smiled. "What would I do without ya?"

"It's no big deal, Bobby. 'Sides, can't have you going around dropping delicious baked goods willy-nilly. I'll be damned if I wasn't tempted to eat that yummy-looking loaf right off the Clubhouse floor."

Bobby threw his scruffy head back and laughed heartily as Marlowe put the finishing touches on his dressing.

"There, all done," she announced cheerfully as she smoothed out the adhesive securing the bandage. Pulling off her surgical gloves, Marlowe made quick work of cleaning up her makeshift triage area. "I'm leaving enough supplies here for you to change the dressing twice a day, so if I'm not around, get Chibs to help you out, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bobby replied before giving her a grateful buss on the cheek. "So if you didn't drop by just for little ol' me, what other reason convinced your old man to let you out of his bed so early in the morning, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Just doing right by another one of my boys," Marlowe replied. "I made some more salve for Clay's arthritis and according to Gemma, he bunked here last night. Just wanted to drop it off on my way to work."

"You're a good girl, Marley," Bobby smiled. "Take a peek in your old room. If he ain't there, he's most likely in the gym."

With the small first-aid kit tucked under her arm, Marlowe dropped a quick kiss on top of Bobby's shaggy head before trotting behind the bar to store the kit in its rightful place. Making her way down the corridor towards the dorms, she could hear noises indicating that she would likely find Clay in the gym even before she turned the corner.

Leaning against the open doorway, Marlowe watched as Clay sat straddling a low bench, a set of ten pound weights gripped in his hands as he did a slow set to warm up his muscles as she had suggested so many months ago. It was evident that the physical therapy regimen she had developed for him, combined with cortisone shots and her Tia's home remedy, had greatly increased the dexterity while relieving the pain in the hands of SAMCRO's former president.

"Hey, stranger," she called out softly and watched as with a jerk, Clay lifted his large head to focus on her.

"Hey, Doc!" he called out surprised. "I thought geezers like me and Bobby Elvis were the only ones who get up with the chickens around here. What brings you 'round so early?"

"Just some light patch-up duty," Marlowe responded as she sauntered into the room. "Bobby burned his hand while baking this morning."

"Shit, he all right?"

"Yeah, it looks pretty minor, but I'll keep an eye on it. I also come bearing gifts." Sliding her hand into her backpack, Marlowe pulled out a small jar. Clay was already reaching for it before she could make the offer.

"Hey, you made the good stuff!" Clay said with a broad smile. He unscrewed the top and took a whiff, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. "Still smells like shit, but it's worth its weight in gold. Thanks, Doc. I was almost out."

"So it's still working for you?" she asked.

Clay bobbed his head up and down. "You have no idea what a huge difference this stuff has made. I'm down to about once a week, but it's been more than enough to keep my hands loose and limber and virtually pain-free. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Doc." Patting the bench next to him, Clay grinned. "Sit down and take a load off for a minute. It's been a while since we've had a little chat."

Marlowe shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I got a minute before I have to hit the road." Straddling the bench so that she faced him, she placed her backpack between them, crossing her arms and leaning against it. "So what's up? You finally considering having the surgery? It's not a bad idea, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. I have, actually, but that's not why I want to talk, Doc," he replied before focusing steel blue eyes on her heather gray ones. "It's about Jax."

* * *

Chucky _loved_ going undercover for the Sons. It wasn't often that he was called upon to do so, but he always felt like an honorary member any time the Club needed him to help out. A brother without a kutte and who tooled around Charming on a powder blue Vespa instead of a Harley.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was considered something of an oddity and looked upon through suspicious eyes by most of the townsfolk in Charming. That didn't matter to Chucky, however, as he believed that his worth as a human being came from his close ties to the Sons of Anarchy. Although a reasonable person could argue that he had been maimed and disfigured thanks to the Sons, Chucky believed that the only reason he was still alive when Henry Lin had wanted him dead was because of SAMCRO.

In what many in the Club considered a rare act of humanitarian kindness on his part, Tig Trager had taken pity on him and had liberated Chucky from the Chinese by overriding Clay's decision to leave his fate in Lin's hands. He would forever be indebted to Tig—and the Sons by extension. Had Tig not stepped up, his next stop would have been one of Lin's Oakland restaurants as the main ingredient in _Kung Pao Chucky_.

Instead, he had spent the last couple of years blissfully employed by the Club as their general dogsbody, a position he was extremely appreciative for, especially since it gave him "associate" status in the Clubhouse, marking him as more than just a regular hang-around. Although Chucky knew he could never be an actual member of the MC, his loyalty to them ran deep nonetheless.

Now, as he stood in the circle of men and one woman looking down at the large mass of what could have been classified as a large mammal other than human, Chucky swung the remaining blue gift bags from his faux hands, the contents of which he would have to trash.

_Such a shame, too. Bobby makes some really great fudge._

Checking back into the conversation going on around him, Chucky focused on the group surrounding the obese man lying on the floor of the Insurance Office of Allen Biacone in downtown Charming. His eyes were bouncing back and forth as he tried to keep up with what was going on as the small blonde wailed at Jax Teller while gesturing wildly at the man on the ground.

"You have got to be kidding me! You're not fuckin' serious about this, are you?" Ima Tite nearly screeched as she looked into the uncompromising blue eyes of the SAMCRO Pres. "I can't fuck him! Look at him! He's as big as a fuckin' whale!"

"I couldn't care less if he was in fact an actual fuckin' whale. I'm sure you've done a whole lot worse, darlin'," Jax replied grimly as he folded his arms over his broad chest. "Besides, you _owe_ a debt to my brother here," he said, nodding at Opie who was watching Ima with a tightlipped expression, "or did you already forget about the shit you got his old lady into? Giving Orca here the fuck of a lifetime is the price of admission back into the Club's good graces. It's what you gotta do to square shit away with Ope _and_ if you wanna hang around the Club. So what's it gonna be?" Jax's smile only hinted at the malevolence burning in his eyes as he watched the slight woman squirm and shudder in front of him. "Clock's ticking, darlin'."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Ima eyed the biker with thinly-veiled belligerence before finally resigning herself to her fate. Bottom line, she knew the only reason the Club hadn't made her pay with her life for the mess she got Lyla into was because they would find a use for her later. They _always_ did, only to toss her aside when she was no longer considered a commodity. She couldn't even let that bit of truth hurt her feelings because she knew Jax was right. Not only did she have a debt to pay back, but she _had _done worse in life than the fat slob on the floor. Sometimes life gave you lemons and you had no choice but to make fuckin' lemonade. She would get through this, but first she had to convince herself that this was just one more unsavory gig among the many she had done during her career as porn star.

However, it seemed that the hardened and uncompromising Jax Teller Ima knew only too well was softening a bit as he watched her struggle with the torment of what he was ordering her to do. Muttering a few choice curse words under his breath, he grabbed her arm. "Come here," Jax said gruffly as he pulled her out of the circle, leaving behind Happy, Juice, Opie and a couple of Prospects. Standing on the other side of the room, Jax crossed his arms over his chest once again. "Look, the guy's unconscious, so you don't actually have to fuck him."

"Really?" Ima asked, her eyes widening with hope. She watched as Jax ran his ringed fingers through his slicked back shoulder length hair.

"Nah, just put those famous acting skills of yours to work and ride him for a bit," Jax said but immediately held an index finger up to her face. "Make it look good, though, like you're milking him of every last drop. You do this shit right and not only will it help us out, but there might be another business opportunity for you down the road."

_Oh, goody. Another 'opportunity' to get dicked over by the Sons_, Ima thought with a grimace. Sighing, she balanced herself on the toes of her stilettos in order to look over Jax's shoulder at the group before finally nodding her assent.

"Good," Jax said as he waved Ratboy over who was holding Ima's travel case and garment bag. "Now, go get changed 'cause you're needed on set."

* * *

It had been a rather long afternoon and the SAMCRO Pres was feeling particularly filthy at the moment.

_There is just some shit you can't unsee_, Jackson Teller thought as he walked into his home. _Not even flushing my eyeballs with bleach would help unsee the nasty piece of business I orchestrated today_, he thought with an exhausted sigh as he stripped off his kutte and hung it up on a coat hook by the front door. Kicking off his sneakers, he glanced around the quiet living room. It was dark and hearing no activity there or coming from the kitchen, he headed up the hallway to look for the two most important people in his life. The closer he came to Abel's room, the easier he could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from within. Gently pushing the door slightly ajar, Jax smiled as his eyes finally landed on his Holy Grail, his old lady and son.

Curled up at the head of the bed, Marlowe's long lean frame nearly took up the entire bed as she cuddled a pajama-footed Abel in her arms as she quietly read to him. He could see that his son was fighting a losing battle to stay awake, so Jax waited quietly for his old lady to finish sending their son off to the Land of Nod.

Knowing that he was coming home to his family every night was the one thing that kept Jax firmly focused on the goals set before him. In the end, all that truly mattered to him was that his family enjoyed a safe and happy life while he did good and fulfilling work to provide for them. Living an honest, hardworking life would allow him and his brothers to enjoy all the freedoms living the biker lifestyle afforded them with none of the pain or sacrifice. So far, the road to legitimacy hadn't been an easy one, but every time his eyes lit upon his son, Jax knew he was doing the right thing by striving to fulfill his father's legacy. After all, when it was all said and done, it would be his legacy too.

"Well, if it isn't the Larry Flynt of the MC world," his old lady said quietly as she rose from their son's bed to walk towards him.

Pushing into the room, Jax grabbed Marlowe around her waist and pulled her in for an enthusiastic kiss. "Eh, I'm not nearly as good looking as Mr. Flynt," he joked quietly as his hands found a home on her pert ass. "I see you got little man down for the night," Jax said with a slight nod towards his sleeping son. "I almost interrupted you two."

"I kinda wish you had," Marlowe admitted. "Even though I'm sure it would have taken me another hour to settle his little butt down, he's been wanting to see you. You've been so busy lately, baby, he's been missing his daddy."

"I know," Jax said before dropping another peck on her lips. "That'll change soon, I promise. 'Sides, I'll be here in the morning when he wakes up."

Walking over to the toddler bed, Jax watched Abel as he slept soundly. Bending down, he kissed his son's cool-to-the-touch forehead and tucked the covers around him before turning to exit the room, pulling his old lady along behind him. Standing in front of the closed door, they spent a considerable amount of time swapping spit before Marlowe finally nudged Jax away.

"You hungry, outlaw?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Jax replied with a sly smile. "And as much as I want to land on that ass of yours, I need some food first, babe."

"Well, follow me 'cause I have a plate warming for you in the oven," Marlowe said as she grabbed him by the hand.

"Sounds good to me." He obediently followed his old lady into the kitchen. Sitting down at the table, Jax watched as she pulled out two medium-sized bowls from the fridge.

"I waited for you so we could eat dinner together," Marlowe said noting the look of disdain on Jax's face as she put the plates of salad on the table. "And don't give me any shit, Jackson," she quickly countered before he could open his mouth to complain. "God knows you could use more greens in your diet to counteract all that damn sugar you put in your coffee." She placed a bottle of what looked like homemade Ranch dressing on the table as she took her seat.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Jax liberally poured the creamy dressing over the mix of baby greens, spinach, red cabbage, cucumbers, and grape tomatoes and started eating as Marlowe followed suit.

"I assume everything went well," she stated in between bites of her salad as she watched Jax make quick work of his.

"Yup. As they say in the biz, it's a wrap," Jax replied cheekily. "We definitely got what we needed and then some."

"I'm glad to hear that 'cause that's some really crazy shit you're trying to make happen, Jax," Marlowe said as she lifted a glass of water to her lips. "Although, I'm sure that sort of crazy shit is right up Tigger's alley."

Jax put his fork down and used a paper napkin to wipe his mouth before speaking. "I decided at the last minute to let Tig sit this one out," he stated as Marlowe eyed him with a furrowed brow. "You know, the less bodies involved at this stage, the better," Jax continued, for some reason feeling compelled to explain his thought process to his old lady.

"I get it. That was a smart move, baby, especially since he's so close to Clay," Marlowe replied with a firm nod. "Have you reached out to the good Mayor yet regarding your plan?" she asked as she got up to take their empty bowls to the sink.

"I did, with photos in hand. Nearly gave the man a heart attack too," Jax replied with a smile. "He doesn't seem to have a problem with the use of blackmail, but he did call my way of getting shit done ham-fisted."

"Yeah, I can see why he would," Marlowe replied as she set a hot plate of food and a cold beer in front of Jax. Ham-fisted was putting it mildly considering that the scenario Jax had set out for her included Big-and-Tall size 48 leather chaps and Ima decked out as a Dominatrix. "But I'm sure he knows his little utopia's dead in the water if Biacone doesn't change his vote by the next City Council meeting."

Jax's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as he took his first bite of the succulent beef stew Marlowe had made. "Damn, baby, that's good," he said through his second mouthful, eliciting a chuckle from his old lady. It almost seemed as if their conversation was forgotten as he paused to savor his food. "Hale Jr. is not only a businessman, he's an opportunist," Jax stated, picking up on their conversation after taking a deep pull from his beer bottle. "He's willing to make Charming Heights happen by any means necessary. If what it takes includes getting into bed with the Sons, then guess what, babe."

"He'll do it," Marlowe responded with a smirk.

Jax nodded. "Hale's not a stupid man. He sees the differences between me and Clay and realizes that with the Club under my leadership, his plans for Charming can and will happen," he explained as he continued digging into his food. "We showed him today that SAMCRO is ready and willing to clear any roadblocks that might halt Charming Heights and, to show his gratitude, Hale agreed to spread the wealth a bit. In the next 6 to 8 months, T-M can expect a big chunk of legitimate business to be kicked our way."

Marlowe smiled as she reached over to place a kiss on his lips. "Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?"

"No, not lately," Jax grinned wolfishly.

"Well, I am," Marlowe stated emphatically. "I never met your dad, but to hear Piney talk, you're just like him, baby, and I'm sure he'd be proud of what you're doing for the Club too."

Jax smiled at her wistfully. "We still have a long way to go before we're completely out of guns, babe. All I know for sure is that I couldn't do any of it without you."

"You'll always have my support, Jax, unconditionally and 100%." Marlowe smiled. "With the promise of legit business coming from the Charming Heights development and an end date in sight for these Cartel runs, I'm just glad to do what I can to lift this huge weight off your shoulders . . . Speaking of which, you ready for this weekend?"

Jax gently squeezed her hand before bringing it up to his lips. His old lady was getting really good at hiding her concerns, but he knew she still had them just the same. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not anticipating any problems."

The newly renegotiated deal with the Cartel had been the first major shift Jax had made in an attempt to restructure the Club. All the main sticking points with the deal that Clay had originally brokered with the Cartel were gone. With delivery of the merch now taking place in NorCal instead of Arizona, Jax had approached Romeo several months ago about letting Alvarez and his crew traffic the Cartel's blow to their base in Oakland. Up until that point, SAMCRO had been muling the drugs using a small group of experienced patches. Although they had managed to successfully keep the runs contained and under law enforcement's radar, Jax never felt his Club was truly safe until the drugs were in the possession of the Mayans. Since he was on the receiving end of the drug shipments anyway, it made sense to Marcus Alvarez that his MC take over the runs. Cutting out a third-party contractor meant an even bigger slice of the Cartel's pie for his crew and he had no problem with that.

In the meantime, Opie had been quietly feeling out how his brothers for a reaction to a possible change of the Cartel deal and had received a somewhat favorable response. Confident he had the support he needed, Jax had brought the revised deal to the table for a vote. In spite of the financial hit the Club would be taking, overall the plan to hand over the drug trafficking to the Mayans had been well-received. Looking around the table, Jax could see the relief reflected back at him in the eyes of most of his brothers, especially Kozik. As a former junky, Kozik had never been comfortable with muling drugs and had only put aside his reservations in order to support Clay and Jax.

However, neither Clay nor Tig had been happy about the revised deal, with Clay extremely vocal about his objections. It had been the third time since Jax had taken up the gavel that he and his stepfather had actively butted heads. As far as the former president was concerned, the muling of the drugs had been a necessary condition of their deal with the Cartel—one that had been going smoothly. To Clay, Jax's proposed revisions to the Cartel deal would have SAMCRO giving away easy money to the Mayans at the tune of $100K per shipment every two weeks.

Jax argued that maybe Clay wouldn't think it was so easy if he had been the one making 13-hour runs to Arizona and 13 hours back in a 48-hour period twice a month. He also wasn't the one routinely putting his freedom at risk. With the majority sitting at the table facing a mandatory 25-to-life for another felony, as far as Jax was concerned, making "easy money" didn't mean shit if he couldn't protect his Club. With a few exceptions, however, Clay was convinced Jax wouldn't have enough votes to change the terms of the Cartel deal, sure his brothers would never give up an easy and tax-free $2.4 million for another possible year of muling.

Needless to say, the 8-to-2 vote in favor of the revised deal had completely floored Clay, making the situation even tenser between the older man and the young President. With Clay trying to exert control over the Club he no longer led, Jax knew that as he continued to make slow but steady progress in getting out of the gun business, his already-tense relationship with his stepfather was bound to get only worse.

Jax eyed his old lady, noting that his assurances of a smooth run hadn't erased the concern etched on her face. "Something wrong, babe?" he asked.

Marlowe focused anxious heather gray eyes on his clear blue ones. "I had an interesting conversation with Clay today," she replied. Seeing his eyes darken and his jaw click with tension prompted Marlowe to move quickly to settle him down. "It was nothing bad, Jax."

Jax chuckled without mirth. "I bet it was nothing good either."

"I guess it's all in how you look at it." Marlowe shrugged her shoulders.

"And how do you look at it, Marley?" Jax asked gently.

"Like I was being ordered by a commanding officer to take on a shit assignment," she replied honestly as she wrinkled her nose before quickly adding, "or maybe I just misread the whole conversation and his intentions behind it."

Jax shook his head. He wasn't buying it. Much like her stepbrother Happy, Marlowe Guthrie had killer instincts and knew how to read people. "Nah, babe. If something Clay said gave you a strange vibe, there has to be a reason."

"I just don't get _why_ he chose to have this particular conversation with me in the first place," Marlowe started. "I mean, in spite of being the MC's medic, no one except you ever discusses Club business with me."

Jax's eyebrows shot up. "What Club business?"

"How you're trying to reboot the porn business by getting Cara Cara up and running again," Marlowe replied without hesitation. If Clay had been expecting to shock her feminine sensibilities with the news, he had been sorely disappointed. One, she didn't care how consenting adults chose to make a living and two, she probably knew more about the Club's plans for Cara Cara than Clay himself. Thanks to many long nights of "pillow talk", Marlowe quickly learned that there wasn't much Jax kept from her.

Marlowe went on to relate that although Clay had taken the soft sell approach with her, she could read his agenda from a mile away. Claiming even though he was all on board with plans to move the Club toward a more legitimate path, he had reservations that maybe Jax was taking on too much too fast. Sure, Unser Trucking was doing extremely well, but financial success in the present couldn't predict how well the business would do in the future, especially once Wayne Unser retired for good. With the Club gearing up to hand over a big chunk of change to the Mayans, it was fiscally irresponsible to take on another endeavor—especially a risky one like porn—so soon.

"He said that you're so hell bent on proving yourself as a leader that you're blind to the fact that you may end up running the Club and yourself into the ground. That you were losing focus of the Club's real business and with so many balls in the air, dropping one could have serious consequences. He also claimed to be worried that you putting in such long hours down at the Clubhouse meant there was trouble in paradise. He suggested that for the sake of our relationship, I needed to talk you into slowing down a bit," Marlowe said with a smirk. "I'm sorry, baby. I like Clay and all, but I just didn't buy his fatherly concern as genuine."

Jax's smile resembled a snarl. "Good call, babe because it wasn't. He's hoping that involving you in Club business will stir up some trouble for me at home, making me lose focus on my plans for SAMCRO."

Marlowe nodded. "I guess he realized that wasn't going to happen when I told him I had blind faith in my old man 'cause that's when he pulled out the big guns."

Jax narrowed his eyes. "What did he say to you?"

Marlowe bit her lip in hesitation, knowing that what she said next was going to piss him off even more than Clay involving her in shit he had no right to involve her in. "That you have a weakness for porn pussy," she started, quickly wishing she could snatch the words back out of thin air when she noted Jax getting red under the collar of his shirt. "He equated you running a porn studio to a kid running amok in a candy store."

Marlowe held her breath and waited for him to blow. He didn't and somehow that worried her more.

"It's one thing for that crippled son of a whore to attempt a power-grab at the table," Jax said, his voice eerily calm as he eyed her grimly. "But he's crossing the line dropping shit like that in your ear."

"Jax," Marlowe shook her head as she squeezed his hand. "I don't scare off so easily and more important, I trust you," she assured him earnestly to no avail.

"He undermines my leadership of the Club by fighting me on every fuckin' decision I make!" Jax said furiously. "He thinks I can't see that he's itching to get the gavel back but I'm always ten steps ahead of the wily bastard! So he pulls a bitch move by leaning on my old lady, hoping to mind-fuck you into thinking I can't keep my dick in my pants!"

Marlowe shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Well, it _is_ a pretty impressive dick, baby," she teased. Seeing his tight face, however, Marlowe sighed. "Look, Jax. My days of being mind-fucked ended once I got a handle on my PTSD. The only way anyone can get away with playing head games with me is if I let them and that shit ain't happening. 'Sides, you've seen me in action. I can handle dirty skanks who try rubbing up on _my_ dick, or did you forget?"

Marlowe watched as Jax reluctantly cracked a smile and chuckled. "Almost ending up with a KA-BAR between the eyes is kinda hard to forget, darlin'."

"So what's the beef?" Marlowe threw up her hands. "I ain't got one and neither should you. I only told you about Clay being a dick in the interest of full disclosure 'cause his snarky bullshit wasn't what sent up a red flag."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was Clay's insistence that you were just wasting time and money trying to get Cara Cara operational again, like he knew something you didn't," Marlowe explained. "I couldn't put my finger on it until he mentioned the trouble Rosen was having getting shit off the ground since you put him on the task several months ago." Standing up, she grabbed their plates and with her old man on her heels, made quick work of scrapping the remnants of their meal and handing them to him to place in the sink. Handing Jax a dish towel, she started washing the dishes. "It kind of got me thinking about the Club's counsel. I guess Rosen's been around for a long time now, huh?"

Jax nodded as he took a clean plate from her and started to dry it absently before putting it in a cabinet. "Yeah, Scott Rosen's been handling the MC's legal matters ever since Clay took over." Jax crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you ask?"

Marlowe turned to lean against the counter to face him. "Well, aside from Tig, you've told me that Clay has his share of supporters across all the charters. It only stands to reason that he can also count supporters among outside associates as well. After making Opie your VP, what was your next official act as President?"

Jax's brow creased. "I made Hap my SAA."

Marlowe nodded. "Exactly. I love Tigger, I really do, but I've been around long enough to know that he has always been in Clay's pocket. I'm not telling you how to run the Club, baby, but you might want to consider completely cleaning house by taking this mobbed up lawyer up on her offer. After all, doesn't it seem a little odd that someone who charges $1200-an-hour isn't savvy enough to plow through some red tape? He even dropped the ball on getting the Club its insurance money for the warehouse. Isn't it possible that he's deliberately gumming up the works as a favor to Clay?"

Marlowe remained silent while she watched her old man's mind at work as a look of intensity, irritation and, finally, enlightenment flashed over his handsome features. "Honestly, babe, that possibility never even crossed my mind."

"Well, now that it has, maybe you need to think long and hard before deciding to turn down this chick's offer. It can't hurt to weigh all the options." Marlowe grinned. "Now," she purred and, having finished the dishes, snaked one arm around his waist as her free hand cupped the junction between his legs.

Jax grinned. Leave it to his old lady to drop some knowledge on him to marinate, only to quickly switch topics. "What's this?" he purred back.

"Just me, in the mood for dessert," she murmured sexily in his ear, gently nipping his lobe with her teeth.

In one swift move, Jax scooped her up in his arms. "Well, never let it be said that this outlaw has failed to satisfy his old lady's cravings," he said wickedly as he headed off to their bedroom.

* * *

**A/N: First off, I want to thank you guys for not giving up on me and for pestering me to get back on the ball. Making the transition to a new job can be difficult and with so much going on, writing fanfiction had to take a back seat, but now I am ready and raring to pick up where I left off. **

**I took to heart some of the reviewers who have been missing Jaxlowe and decided to bring them back in this chapter rather than down the road. As you can see, this couple is definitely still in sync with each other and have, I think grown even more closer as Marlowe has obviously learned how to handle breaking bad news to her old man. It is starting to become clear to Jax that Clay is definitely going to be a problem as he tries to transition the Club out of gun running, but I think with Marlowe by his side he is well up to the task. **

**And don't worry—Happy and Tiny will be coming around the mountain real soon. I'm hoping for a whole lot of reviews to welcome me back!**

**Hugs, Harlee.**


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